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FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 


THE  GEOGRAPHICAL  LIBRARY 

Neareit  the  Pole, 

By  Robtrt  E.  Ptary,  U.  S.  N. 

Fighting  the  Polar  Ice, 

By  Anth$ny  Fiala 

The  Awakening  of  China, 

By  Dr.  fF.  A.  P.  Martin 

The  Opening  of  Tibet, 

By  Perceval  Landtn 

The  Passing  of  Korea, 

By  Homer  B.  Hulbert,  A.  M. 

Flashlights  in  the  Jungle, 

By  C.  G.  Schilling, 

-'n,t.*<#Woc  .^'^/-^-wAj^V^ 


Fiji  and  its  Possibilities 


By 

BEATRICE   GRIMSHAW 


Illustrated  from 
photographs 


New  York 

Doubleday,  Page  &  Company 

1907 


Copyright,  1907,  by  Doubleday,  Page  &  Company 
Published,  September,  1907 


All  Rights  Reserved 

Including  that  op  Translation  into  Foreign  Languagbs 

Including  the  Scandinavian 


'^^^BIHB  HOQi^ 


PUBLISHERS'  NOTE 

THIS     STORY     FIRST     APPEARED      IN     ENGLAND     UNDER 
THE    TITLE    "FROM    FIJI    TO    THE    CANNIBAL    ISLANDS" 


2IG599 


CONTENTS 


Chapter  I.  Descriptive  and  Humorous 3 

A  Far  Cry  to  Fiji— The  Wonderful  Hills— History  of 
Fiji — Link  Between  Eastern  and  Western  Pacific — The 
Days  of  Thakombau — How  the  Colony  is  Governed — 
Trade  of  the  Islands — The  Humours  of  the  Penal  System 


Chapter  II.  On  the  Trail ay 

Garden  of  the  Swiss  Family  Robinson — Over  the  Hills 
and  Far  Away — The  Pandanus  Prairies — Fijian  Luggage 
— The  Curse  of  the  Spotted  Bun — A  Tropical  Forest — 
Benighted  on  the  Way 


Chapter  III.  Native  Food — A  Fijian  Home 41 

Night  in  a  Fijian  House — A  Colossal  Bed — The  City  of  a 
Dream — A  Fascinating  Fijian — How  to  Drink  Yanggona 
—Wanted,  a  Stanley— Where  are  the  Settlers  ?— The 
Fairy  Fortress 


Chapter  IV.  Hospitality 67 

"Plenty  Shark" — Introduction  to  a  Mbili-mbili — Down 
the  Singatoka  River — A  Meke-meke  at  Mavua — Thalassa ! 


Chapter  V.  Personal  Impressions 83 

The  Song  of  the  Road — Fijian  Fun — Night  on  the  Wain- 
ikoro— The  Noble  Savage  Fails— The  Village  Plate— The 
Lot  of  the  Kaisi — Sharks  Again — ^A  Swim  for  it 


viii  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

PAGE 

Chapter  VI.  Contrasting  Scenes         loi 

Off  to  the  Ndreketi — Fijian  Smart  Society — A  Native 
Princess — The  Sugar-cane  Dance — Getting  Bogged — The 
Use  of  Bad  Language — The  Ndreketi  River — A  Splendid 
Timber  Country — A  Native  Diary — ^Truth  About 
Tropical  Forests — How  to  Live  on  Nothing  a  Day 

Chapter  VIL  Industrial  Surprises 121 

At  the  Back  of  Beyond — The  Last  of  the  Cannibals — A 
Pleasant  Old  Devil — The  Plague  of  Fleas — When  Gideon 
Went  Wild — Nanduri  Once  More — The  Vanilla  Planters 
— Cattle-ranching  in  Fiji 

Chapter  VIIT.  An  Anglo-French  Dilemma 139 

The  Mysterious  Islands — Where  No  One  Goes — What 
Happened  to  the  Cook — A  Fairy  Harbour — Extraordi- 
nary Vila — History  of  the  New  Hebrides — What  France 
Intends 

Chapter  IX.  The  New  Hebrides 155 

New  Hebridean  Natives — Life  in  an  Explosive  Magazine 
— The  Delights  of  Dynamite  Fishing — The  Sapphire  and 
Snow  Mele — On  a  Coffee  Plantation — Plan  to  Eat  a 
Planter — The  Recruiting  System — The  Flowering  of  the 
Coffee 

Chapter  X.  Malekula — An  Uncanny  Place       .      .      .      .     177 
Bound  for  Sou'-West  Bay — The  Wandering  Steamer — 
The    Marriage    Market    in    Malekula — An    Avenue    of 
Idols — The  Unknown  Country — A  Stronghold  of  Sav- 
agery— Ten  Stick  Island 

Chapter  XI.  Malekula — The  Outer  Man 193 

How  Bilyas  Made  Itself  Strong — The  Slaughtered  Traders 
— Into  the  Unknown  Country — The  Cannibal  Toilet — 
New  Fashions  in  Murder — The  Ignorant  White  Woman 


CONTENTS  ix 

MCK 

Chapter  XII.  Malekula — The  Inner  Man 209 

How  a  Malekulan  Town  is  Defended — The  Idol  Dance — 
Fintimbus  and  the  Pig — Gregorian  Chant  in  the  Wilder- 
ness— What  are  the  Malekulans? — An  Interview  with  a 
Cannibal  Chief — The  Lost  Opportunity — No  Admittance 
to  the  Temple — A  Marvellous  Mummy — The  Bluebeard 
Chamber — Making  a  Conical  Skull — ^The  Captain's  Story  . 

Chapter  XIII.  Malekula — Pagan  and  Warlike      .      .      .     225 
Idols    of   the    New   Hebrides — The    Famous    Poisoned 
Arrows — The   Threatened    Schooner — The  Breaking  of 
Navaar — An  Ill-natured  Sea-chief 

Chapter  XIV.  Hot  Times  in  Tanna 237 

Hot  Times  in  Tanna — An  Island  of  Murderers — The 
Terror  that  Walks  in  Darkness — A  Tannese  Village — 
Avenging  a  Chieftain — Was  it  an  Accident  ? — A  Council  of 
War— Netik— The  Work  of  British-made  Bullets 

Chapter  XV.  Tanna — Its  Scenery  and  Resources        .      .     257 
Somebody's    Picnic — The   Simple   Life   in   Tanna — The 
Returned  Labour  TroubVe — Up  the  Great  Volcano — The 
Valley  of  Fire 

Chapter  XVI.  Norfolk  Island — Good-bye 279 

The  Story  of  Norfolk  Island — A  Woman  in  the  Case — ^The 
Fate  of  the  Mutineers — In  the  New  Home — A  Valley  of 
Peace — Good-bye 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Beatrice  Grimshaw     . 

. 

Frontispiece 

FACING  PACK 

Fijian  chiefs  and  armed  native  constabulary           .         .       17 

Fijian  chief 

17 

Armed  native  constabtilary 

.       17 

Sugar  boats,  Rewa  River    . 

•       19 

A  Fijian  jail 

.       19 

Coca          .... 

.       30 

Cinnamon 

.       30 

A  mountain  house 

32 

Joni  making  fire 

.       36 

A  root  of  yanggona    . 

36 

TinyTambale    . 

.       45 

The  ndalo  beds 

.       45 

Yanggona  bushes 

.       45 

House  of  the  Turanga  Lilewa 

62 

A  feast  by  the  way     . 

.       65 

Bringing  up  the  yams 

65 

Morning,  Lemba-Lemba 

71 

The  Buli  of  Lemba-Lemba,  with  father  and  family. 

71 

My  followers  on  the  Mbili-Mbili   . 

74 

Getting  ready  for  the  meke-meke 

74 

"Three  Sisters"  Mountain,  Vanua  Levu 

86 

The  village  plate 

95 

Unpeopled  country     . 

95 

The  boatless  Wainikoro 

98 

The  wild  pineapples    . 

98 

Makarita  in  festival  dress    . 

103 

Makarita  in  Sunday  dress    . 

103 

Sunday  morning  in  Nanduri 

106 

Xll 


FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 


The  sugar-cane  dance 

CING  PAGE 

.      io6 

In  the  prince's  house — Fijian  bed 

III 

The  wood-cutter 

119 

A  dakua  tree 

119 

"Bad  Lot" 

122 

The  "Tevoro" 

122 

Vanilla 

133 

On  a  cocoanut  plantation    .          ,          .         . 

^33 

Drying  vanilla 

^33 

The  Anglo-French  Naval  Commission  . 

140 

H.  M.  S.  Pegasus 

140 

Entering  the  stock-yards 

149 

Havana  Harbour,  Efat6 

149 

Coffee-drying 

172 

Coffee  in  flower 

172 

The  refuge  island  of  Wala — natives  coming  home  to  sleep 

179 

The  avenue  of  idols 

179 

Chief's  collection  of  boar  tusks  and  jaws 

184 

Afraid  to  land — Sou'-West  Bay   .... 

198 

Conscience-stricken     ...... 

198 

Malekula  warrior 

203 

The  women's  dance    ...... 

211 

Dancing  and  singing 

211 

The  dance  of  Atamat  and  Fintimbus    . 

213 

A  dancing  mask 

213 

The  forbidden  temple          .          .         .         .         . 

215 

Bringing  out  the  mummy 

218 

Town  of  Lemba-Lemba 

220 

Infant  head-binding 

220 

Typical  idols 

227 

"  Wishing-arch  "  idol 

229 

The  strange-faced  idol          ..... 

229 

A  notorious  cannibal 

234 

Poisoned  arrows 

.     234 

ILLUSTRATIONS 


Xlll 


Tannese  scar-tattooing 

Shooting  fish 

Night  refuge 

In  the  yam  fields 

The  bad  old  man 

Looking  out  for  trouble 

The  allies  coming  in   . 

The  council  of  war — the  speaker  for  war 

The  council  of  war — "What  was  that?" 

Tannese  woman  .... 

Tanna  man        ..... 

Tannese  girl  climbing  a  cocoanut  palm 

At  the  foot  of  the  cone 

Bushmen  coming  to  see  a  white  child  . 

Fashions  in  Erromanga 

"After  life's  fitful  fever"     . 

The  shore  road,  Norfolk  Island    . 

Captain  Drake,  R.   N.,  and  Mrs.  Drake. 

House         ..... 
Garden  fence  of  whales'  ribs  and  vertebras 
Tennis,  Norfolk  Island 
Government  House,  Norfolk  Island 


FACING  PAGE 
240 

243 

247 
247 
250 

252 
252 

270 

27s 
275 
282 
282 


Government 


286 
286 
292 
292 


FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 


FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

CHAPTER  I 

DESCRIPTIVE  AND  HUMOROUS 

A  Far  Cry  to  Fiji — The  Wonderful  Hills — History  of  Fiji — 
Link  between  Eastern  and  Western  Pacific — The 
Days  of  Thakombau — How  the  Colony  is  Governed — 
Trade  of  the  Islands — The  Humours  of  the  Penal 
System 

IT  IS  a  "  far  cry  "  to  Fiji.  Take  ship  from  London,  sail 
down  the  coasts  of  France  and  Spain,  journey  up  the 
Mediterranean,  by  Scylla  and  Charybdis,  and  all  the 
ancient  world ;  reach  Port  Said,  pass  through  the  Gate- 
ways of  the  East,  and  steam  through  the  torrid  Red  Sea 
into  the  Indian  Ocean— and  as  yet  you  have  hardly  started. 
A  little  further,  and  one  comes  to  sun-baked  Aden,  and 
tsees  the  India-bound  passengers  leave  the  ship,  con- 
gratulating themselves  that  the  long  tiresome  voyage 
is  over  now.  .  .  .  Ceylon,  and  the  magnificent  East, 
lift  like  a  splendid  comet  on  the  horizon,  glow  for  one 
gorgeous  day,  and  slip  back  into  the  past.  Now  the 
East  lies  behind,  and  the  West  is  long  forgotten,  and 
what  is  there  to  come? 

The  South  is  still  to  come — the  wide,  free,  wonderful 
world  that  lies  below  the  Line,  and  that  is  as  utterly 
unlike  all  things  met  with  above,  as  the  countries  East  of 
Suez  are  unlike  the  countries  lying  West,  in  outworn, 
immysterious  Europe. 


4  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

Happenings  are  largely  a  matter  of  latitude.  About 
the  fiftieth  parallel,  nothing  interesting  happens  but 
policemen,  bankruptcies,  and  Lord  Mayors'  shows. 
(Millionaires  also  happen — if  you  wish  to  be  a  millionaire 
you  must  on  no  account  stray  below  forty  north — ^but 
millionaires  are  not  interesting,  only  instructive — ^in 
the  uselessness  of  money.) 

Down  toward  the  thirties,  colour  begins  to  glow  upon 
the  gray  outlines  of  Northern  life,  and  in  the  twenties, 
strange  scenes  and  astonishing  peoples  paint  it  over  and 
over.  Cross  the  Line,  and  now  you  may  take  the  brush, 
and  indulge  your  vagrant  fancy  to  the  full,  for  nothing 
that  you  can  paint  will  be  too  bright  or  too  strange. 
Below  the  equator  is  the  world  of  the  south,  and  here 
anything  may  happen,  for  here  the  new  and  the  wild  and 
the  untried  countries  lie,  and  here,  moreover,  you  shall 
come  upon  unknown  tracts  and  places  in  yourself,  on 
which,  if  you  had  stayed  within  sound  of  the  roaring 
throat  of  Piccadilly,  no  sun  had  ever  shone. 

.  .  .  And  as  yet,  we  are  scarce  half-way  on  our 
journey.  More  weeks  slip  by,  and,  yellow,  nude,  and 
harsh,  West  Australia  of  the  goldfields  and  the  great 
unvisited  plains  lies  on  our  port  bow.  More  days,  and 
sparkling  Melbourne  is  passed,  and  Tasmania  has  sunk 
below  the  horizon,  and  still  we  are  travelling  on.  .  .  . 
Sydney,  bright  and  eager  and  curiously  young  (where 
have  all  the  graybeards  hidden  themselves?  or  are  they 
all  at  home  in  the  old  gray  lands  that  suit  their  outworn 
souls?),  is  forgotten,  and  the  great  English  ship  is  left 
at  the  quay,  making  ready  for  the  homeward  journey, 
and  still,  in  another  vessel,  for  ever  and  ever,  as  it  seems, 
we  are  going  t)n.  .  .  .  Seven  weeks  now  since  we 
sailed  from  Tilbury  in  a  storm  of  parting  cheers,  friendly 
faces,  wet  with  driving  English  rain,  and  with  something 


DESCRIPTIVE  AND  HUMOROUS  5 

more,  growing  white  and  far  away  upon  the  pier — and 
still  the  blue  seas  run  in  an  unceasing  river  past 
our  rail,  and  we  sleep  at  night  to  the  sound  of 
beating  waves.     .     .     . 

It  is  nearly  eight  weeks  now,  but  the  eighth  will  not 
be  completed.  One  morning  we  are  all  waked  early  by 
the  sound  of  the  steamer  shrieking  for  a  pilot,  and  when 
we  hurry  on  deck,  we  are  confronted  by  a  sparkling 
harbour,  a  green  lagoon,  and  a  pile  of  the  most  extraor- 
dinary and  incredible  mountain  ranges  ever  seen  outside 
the  dreams  of  a  delirious  scene  painter.  There  are  peaks 
three  and  four  thousand  feet  high,  the  colour  of  a  purple 
thundercloud,  jagged  and  pinked  like  broken  saws; 
peaks  like  side-saddles,  peaks  like  solitary,  mysterious 
altars  raised  to  some  unknown  god,  and  in  the  heart  of 
the  glowing  violet  distance,  one  single  summit  fashioned 
like  a  giant  finger,  pointing  darkly  to  the  sky. 

Opposite  the  hills  lies  a  pretty  little  town,  under  the 
shelter  of  rich-green  wooded  heights.  A  quay  runs  out 
from  the  land,  and  there  are  wharf  officials,  and  custom- 
house men  on  the  quay,  and  in  the  background  well- 
dressed  men  and  ladies  all  in  white,  and  carriages  and 
in  a  word,  civilisation — the  last  thing  that  we  expected, 
here  at  the  ends  of  the  earth. 

It  is  some  time  before  the  new-comer  realises  that 
Suva,  the  capital,  is  to  Fiji  in  general  as  the  feather  in 
the  factory-girl's  hat  to  the  rest  of  her  attire.  Such  a 
splendid  level  as  this  is  only  attainable  locally,  and  the 
rest  of  the  country  suffers  by  comparison  almost  as  much 
as  the  decaying  garments  of  Mary  Ann  from  Bermondsey 
pale  before  the  proximity  of  that  marvellous  erection  of 
feathers  and  tinsel  on  her  head.  Still,  to  the  traveller 
from  home,  who  has  probably  arrived  with  undefined 
fears  of  "savages"  about  the  beach,  and  the  roughest 


6  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

of  tavern  accommodation  in  the  town,  the  first  impression 
is  astonishing. 

Suva,  on  landing,  proves  to  be  a  good-sized  town, 
with  a  long  handsome  main  street,  edged  on  one  side  by 
neatly  cut  grass,  and  great  flamboyant  trees  in  full  flower 
of  vivid  scarlet,  bordering  the  still,  green,  waveless  lagoon 
that  lies  inside  the  barrier  reef.  On  the  other  side  stand 
shops  with  big  plate-glass  windows,  clubs,  offices,  hotels. 
A  little  way  out  of  the  town  is  Government  House,  perched 
upon  its  own  high  hill  to  catch  the  trade  wind — long  and 
wide  and  deeply  verandaed,  with  a  tall  flag-staff  bearing 
the  Union  Jack  on  the  roof,  armed  native  sentries  pacing 
at  the  avenue  gates,  and  a  stately  flight  of  steps  leading 
to  the  porch,  to  be  covered  with  red  carpet  on  great 
occasions.     .     .     .     And  this  is  savage  Fiji! 

When  we  have  chosen  a  hotel,  disposed  of  our  lug- 
gage, dined,  and  settled  down  to  have  a  rest  on  the  coolest 
veranda — ^for  it  is  exceedingly  hot,  and  the  laziness  of  the 
Pacific  world  begins  to  press  hard  upon  us — ^we  may  as 
well  try  to  increase  our  understanding  of  the  place  where 
we  find  ourselves,  by  reading  it  up,  until  the  heat  and  the 
sleepy  swing  of  the  long  cane  rocking-chair  shall  prove  too 
much. 

Fiji  is  a  British  Crown  Colony,  situated  in  the  South- 
west Pacific,  lying  between  the  15th  and  22nd  parallels 
of  south  latitude,  and  between  157  E.  and  177  W.  longi- 
tude. It  consists  of  155  islands,  with  a  total  area  of 
7,400  square  miles.  Most  of  the  land  is  contained  in  the 
two  great  islands  of  Viti  Levu  (Great  Fiji)  and  Vanua 
Levu  (Great  Land),  which  account  for  4,112  and  2,432 
square  miles  respectively.  These  two  islands  are  ex- 
ceptionally well  wooded  and  watered,  and  could,  it  is 
said,  support  three  times  the  population  of  the  whole 


DESCRIPTIVE  AND  HUMOROUS  7 

group.  Viti  Levu  is  in  every  way  the  most  important 
island  in  the  archipelago.  It  contains  the  seat  of  govern- 
ment, the  principal  harbours,  and  all  the  roads,  and 
much  the  greater  part  of  the  colony's  trade.  There  is 
one  town  in  the  group  besides  Suva — Levuka,  the  capital 
of  former  days,  on  the  small  island  of  Ovalau. 

The  climate  is  certainly  hot,  though  the  thermometer 
does  not  rise  to  any  extraordinary  heights.  During  the 
three  hottest  months — ^January,  February  and  March — 
the  highest  shade  temperature  ranges  between  90°  and 
94°  Fahr.,  and  the  lowest  between  67°  and  72°,  roughly 
speaking.  In  the  cooler  months  of  June,  July  and 
August,  59°  and  89°  are  the  usual  extremes.  The  air 
is  moist  as  a  rule,  and  in  Suva,  at  all  events,  one  may 
safely  say  that  a  day  without  any  rain  is  almost  unknown. 
On  the  northern  side  of  Viti  Levu,  the  climate  is  a  good 
deal  drier,  and  in  consequence  less  relaxing.  Dysentery 
is  fairly  common,  but  there  is  no  fever  to  speak  of,  and 
the  climate,  on  the  whole,  is  considered  healthy.  Mosqui- 
toes are  so  troublesome  that  most  of  the  better  class 
private  houses  have  at  least  one  mosquito-proof  room, 
with  doors  and  windows  protected  by  wire  gauze. 

One  hears  a  good  deal  about  hurricanes  in  Fiji,  and 
the  stranger  might  be  pardoned  for  thinking  that  they 
are  common  features  of  the  so-called  "hurricane  season." 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  however,  they  are  rare,  many  years 
often  elapsing  between  one  hurricane  and  the  next. 
Between  1848  and  1901  inclusive,  there  were  only  thirteen 
hurricanes  in  the  group,  and  of  these  only  six  were  really 
destructive.  Most  tropical  climates  would  have  a  worse 
record  to  show  if  carefully  investigated.  Although  the 
rainy  months  are  damp  and  enervating,  the  drier  half  of 
the  year,  from  April  to  October,  is  extremely  pleasant, 
and  not  at  all  too  hot.  / 


8  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

.  .  .  Not  asleep  yet  ?  .  .  .  The  trade  wind  hums 
in  the  great  vanes  of  the  pahn-trees  outside  the  hotel 
veranda.  It  is  very  warm,  and  the  flash  of  white  foam  on 
the  barrier  reef,  between  the  flat  tops  of  the  quaint 
"rain-trees,"  and  the  red  roofs  of  the  lower  town,  is  too 
far  away  to  offer  even  a  suggestion  of  coolness.  Is  it  not 
too  hot  and  drowsy  a  day  to  study  Fijian  geography  and 
history  ? 

No,  for  we  are  in  the  hot  season,  and  every  day  for 
the  next  three  months  is  going  to  be  just  like  this,  and 
if  one  only  reads  and  works  in  a  tropical  climate  when 
one  feels  like  it,  one  will  never  get  through  any  work  at 
all.  That  is  part  of  the  "white  man's  burden,"  and 
pluckily  he  shoulders  it  as  a  rule.  Most  intellectual  work 
in  the  hot  season  is  done  clear  against  the  grain  from 
beginning  to  end,  after  a  fashion  that  would  make  the 
London  city  clerk  stand  aghast.  Yet  it  is  excellently 
done  for  the  most  part,  and  it  does  not,  in  Fiji,  at  all 
events,  seem  to  tell  against  the  health. 

So,  beginning  as  we  mean  to  go  on,  we  will  look  up 
the  history  books,  and  see  what  is  the  past  record  of  this 
strange  land  into  which  we  have  come.  We  have  already 
noted,  passing  down  the  street,  the  curious  mixture  of 
the  population — ^whites,  half-castes,  Samoans,  Indians, 
Chinese,  and  more  conspicuous  than  any,  the  Fijians 
themselves,  tall,  magnificently  built  people  of  a  colour 
between  coffee  and  bronze,  with  stiff  brush-like  hair 
trained  into  a  high  ''pompadour,"  clean  shirts  and  smart 
short  cotton  kilts,  and  a  general  aspect  of  well-groomed 
neatness.  They  do  not  look  at  all  like  "savages,"  and 
again,  they  have  not  the  keen,  intellectual  expression  of 
the  Indians,  or  the  easy  amiability  of  the  Samoan  type  of 
countenance.  They  are  partly  Melanesian,  partly  Poly- 
nesian in  type,  and  they  form,  it  is  quite  evident,  the 


DESCRIPTIVE  AND  HUMOROUS  9 

connecting  link  between  Eastern  and  Western  Pacific. 
East  of  Fiji,  life  is  one  long  lotus-eating  dream,  stirred 
only  by  occasional  parties  of  pleasure,  feasting,  love- 
making,  dancing,  and  a  very  little  gardening  work. 
Music  is  the  soul  of  the  people,  beauty  of  face  and  move- 
ment is  more  the  rule  than  the  exception,  and  friendliness 
to  strangers  is  carried  almost  to  excess.  Westward  of 
the  Fijis  lie  the  dark,  wicked  cannibal  groups  of  the 
Solomons,  Banks,  and  New  Hebrides,  where  life  is  more 
like  a  nightmare  than  a  dream,  murder  stalks  openly  in 
broad  daylight,  the  people  are  nearer  to  monkeys  than  to 
himian  beings  in  aspect,  and  music  and  dancing  are  little 
practised,  and  in  the  rudest  possible  state. 

In  Fiji  itself,  the  nameless  dreamy  charm  of  the 
Eastern  Islands  is  not;  but  the  gloom,  the  fevers,  the 
repulsive  people  of  the  West  are  absent  also.  Life  is 
rather  a  serious  matter  for  the  Fijian  on  the  whole;  he 
is  kept  in  order  by  his  chiefs  and  by  the  British  Govern- 
ment, and  has  to  get  through  enough  work  in  the  year  to 
pay  his  taxes;  also,  if  the  supply  of  volunteers  runs  short, 
he  is  liable  to  be  forcibly  recruited  for  the  Armed  Native 
Constabulary,  and  this  is  a  fate  that  oppresses  him  a 
good  deal — until  he  has  accustomed  himself  to  the  discip- 
line of  the  force,  when  he  generally  makes  an  excellent 
soldier.  But  all  in  all,  he  has  a  pleasant  time,  in  a  pleas- 
ant, productive  climate,  and  is  a  very  pleasant  person 
himself,  hospitable  in  the  highest  degree,  honest,  good- 
natured,  and  clever  with  his  hands,  though  of  a  less 
highly  intellectual  type  than  the  Tongan  or  Samoan. 
Fijian  solo  dancing  is  not  so  good  as  that  of  the  Eastern 
Pacific,  but  there  is  nothing  in  the  whole  South  Seas  to 
equal  the  magnificent  tribe  dancing  of  Vanua  and  Viti 
Levu,  only  seen  at  its  best  on  the  rare  occasions  of  a 
great  chief's  wedding  or  funeral.     The  Waves  of  the  Sea 


to  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

dance  is  one  of  the  most  celebrated ;  it  is  danced  by  several 
thousand  men  wearing  long  white  streamers  of  tappa  cloth 
(a  native-made  stuff  beaten  out  of  the  inner  bark  of  the 
mulberry-tree,  and  looking  like  fine  white  paper) .  These 
streamers,  skilfully  managed,  suggest  the  crests  of  breaking 
rollers  with  extraordinary  vividness,  and  the  roaring  song 
of  the  dancers  closely  reproduces  the  boom  of  the  waves. 
The  history  of  the  country  goes  back  a  very  little 
way — only  as  far  as  1643,  when  Tasman  discovered  the 
group  and  named  it  Prince  William  Islands.  He  did  not 
land,  or  make  any  explorations.  Cook  sailed  within 
sight  of  Vatoa  in  1773,  but  did  not  visit  any  other  of  the 
islands.  Bligh,  after  the  mutiny  of  the  Bounty,  in  1789, 
passed  Moala  during  his  wonderful  boat  voyage  to  Timor, 
and  in  1792  returned  in  the  Providence,  and  made  some 
observations.  In  spite  of  these  visits,  however,  and  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  a  number  of  Australian  convicts 
escaped  up  to  the  islands  about  1802,  they  remained 
almost  unknown  until  D'Urville,  in  the  Astrolabe,  made 
a  rather  brief  exploring  tour  in  1827,  and  constructed 
the  first  chart.  Captain  Bethune  in  1838,  the  United 
States  Exploring  Expedition  in  1840,  and  a  number  of 
British  vessels  afterwards,  completed  the  survey  of  the 
group.  In  1835  the  first  missionaries  arrived,  and  from 
this  time  onward  the  islands  began  to  make  progress 
toward  civilisation.  There  is  no  need  to  repeat  here  the 
story  of  the  cannibal  days  in  Fiji,  since  mission  literature 
has  made  this  part  of  Fijian  history  famous  all  over  the 
world — rather  too  much  so,  as  the  colonist  of  to-day 
declares.  It  takes  a  long  time  to  uproot  any  fixed  idea 
from  the  mind  of  the  slow-going  British  public,  and 
English  people  have  not  yet  succeeded  in  realising  that 
the  cannibal  and  heathen  days  of  Fiji  passed  away  more 
than  thirty  years  ago.     To  most  of  the  home  public,  the 


DESCRIPTIVE  AND  HUMOROUS  n 

Fijis  are  still  the  gloomy  land  of  mission  story,  or  else 
the  "Cannibal  Islands"  of  music-hall  and  nigger-minstrel 
humour — a  place  impossible  to  take  seriously  from  any 
point  of  view,  and  certainly  not  a  spot  where  any  sane 
man  would  either  travel  for  pleasure  or  emigrate  for 
profit.  Theirs  is  the  loss,  since  the  country  is  eminently 
adapted  for  both. 

It  is  enough,  then,  to  say  that  in  the  earlier  part  of 
the  Nineteenth  Century,  the  Fijian  was  the  most  deter- 
mined cannibal  known  to  savage  history,  and  that 
murders  of  the  white  settlers  and  missionaries  were 
frequent.  By  degrees,  however,  the  untiring  efforts  of 
the  missionaries,  and  the  influence  of  the  settlers  them- 
selves, few  as  they  were,  began  to  make  an  improvement, 
and  in  the  early  fifties  the  country  was  advancing  rapidly 
toward  a  better  state  of  civilisation,  when  the  rise  into 
power  of  the  infamous  King  Thakombau,  one  of  the  worst 
monsters  of  cruelty  known  since  the  days  of  Nero,  for  a 
time  held  back  the  tide.  Murders  and  massacres  of  the 
whites  increased,  war  among  the  natives  was  continual, 
and  there  was  small  security  for  property.  In  1855, 
however,  came  a  serious  check  to  Thakombau's  power. 
The  United  States  Government,  incensed  at  the  brutal 
murder  of  a  number  of  shipwrecked  sailors,  demanded 
;^9,ooo  compensation,  which  the  savage  king  found  him- 
self quite  unable  to  pay.  He  offered  to  cede  the  islands 
to  Great  Britain  in  1858,  on  the  condition  that  the  in- 
demnity should  be  taken  over  with  the  country  and 
settled  for  him.  England,  as  it  happened,  did  not  think 
that  a  fine  colony  right  in  the  middle  of  the  Pacific  trade 
routes  was  worth  buying  at  the  cost  of  a  decent  country- 
house  in  the  shires;  so  the  offer  was  refused,  and  the 
richest  prize  in  the  South  Seas  went  begging  for  more 
than  sixteen  years  longer. 


12  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

The  American  Civil  War  proved  the  importance  of 
Fiji's  cotton  industry,  and  was  the  cause  of  a  sudden 
increase  in  the  number  of  respectable  settlers.  Danger- 
ous as  the  country  still  was,  many  families  pluckily 
emigrated  from  Australia,  took  up  waste  lands,  and  began 
to  make  money  rapidly.  Some  of  them,  it  seems,  thought 
that  war  and  war  prices  would  last  for  ever,  since  they 
lived  splendidly  on  what  they  made,  put  down  more  and 
more  cotton,  and  made  no  provision  for  the  reaction  that 
was  bound  to  come.  When  it  did  arrive,  many  were 
ruined.  Some  left  the  colony,  others  lingered  on,  half- 
heartedly trying  one  kind  of  occupation  after  another, 
and  failing  in  all.  It  is  the  remnant  of  these,  and  in  many 
cases  their  children,  who  are  the  drag  upon  the  wheel  of 
the  country  to-day.  They  are  the  failure  element,  the 
unfit,  the  inefficient,  and  with  the  later  importations  of 
ne'er-do-wells,  from  which  no  colony  is  free,  they  make 
up  an  element  of  continual  discontent  and  pessimism, 
not  only  discouraging  to  the  enterprising  new-comer, 
but  actually  hostile  to  him,  in  some  cases,  and  bitterly 
envious  of  his  progress. 

The  successes  among  the  early  emigrants,  on  the 
other  hand,  have  in  many  cases  done  extremely  well, 
acquired  large  properties,  and  formed  the  beginning  of  a 
native  white  population  of  the  most  desirable  kind. 
Cotton-growing  has  long  been  dead  in  Fiji,  but  sugar, 
copra  and  other  products  have  taken  its  place,  and  the 
children  and  grandchildren  of  the  early  settlers  are  in 
many  cases  quite  as  prosperous  as  their  adventurous 
forefathers. 

To  return  to  the  days  of  the  American  War  and 
shortly  after.  A  second  check  now  came  upon  Thakom- 
bau's  power.  The  warlike  tribes  of  Tonga,  a  neighbour- 
ing group  that  had  always  been  a  rival  of  Fiji,  began  to 


DESCRIPTIVE  AND  HUMOROUS 


13 


give  serious  trouble.  Maafu,  a  powerful  chief,  invaded 
the  Fiji  Islands,  and  it  seemed  as  if  a  Tongan  conquest 
were  imminent.  Thakombau,  in  alarm,  called  the  whites 
to  his  aid,  and  arranged  a  constitutional  government  to 
support  his  waning  power.  It  was  to  be  carried  out  by 
white  officials  and  ministers  under  himself  as  King,  and 
would,  he  hoped,  enable  him  to  keep  his  country  out  of 
the  hands  of  Tonga,  without  making  any  costly 
concessions. 

The  hope  proved  vain.  After  two  years  (1871  to 
1873),  the  mixed  government  broke  down  completely, 
and  the  King  and  his  chiefs  saw  themselves  confronted 
with  a  choice  of  two  evils — to  be  conquered  by  Tonga, 
or  to  give  up  the  country  to  Britain.  They  chose  the 
latter,  as  the  smaller  evil,  and  in  1874  offered  Fiji  uncon- 
ditionally to  England. 

England  accepted  the  gift,  and  Fiji  thenceforth 
became  a  Crown  Colony.  From  1874  onward  there  is 
little  history  to  relate.  History  means  trouble,  and 
Fiji's  troubles  were  over.  Thakombau,  retired  on  a 
good  salary,  and  given  enough  royal  honour  to  make 
him  happy  and  content,  ceased  to  annoy.  He  became 
a  Christian,  at  all  events  nominally,  and  died,  a  good 
deal  more  peaceably  than  he  deserved,  in  1883.  The 
missionaries.  Catholic  and  Protestant,  had  succeeded 
in  Christianising  the  greater  part  of  Fiji  before  the  annex- 
ation, and  the  rest  followed  soon  after.  White  settlers' 
increased,  Indian  labour  was  largely  imported  to  work 
the  plantations,  as  the  natives  of  the  islands  did  not  care, 
to  engage;  trade  developed;  a  new  town — Suva — ^was 
built,  and  took  the  place  of  the  older  chief  town,  Levuka, 
as  capital  of  the  group.  A  succession  of  British 
Governors,  beginning  with  Sir  Hercules  Robinson,  did 
their  best    to    develop   the  country   and    improve  the 


14  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

condition  of  the  natives.  In  some  cases  their  efforts  were 
more  well-meaning  than  wise,  and  left  a  melancholy 
legacy  of  mistakes  for  their  successors  to  improve  away, 
but,  on  the  whole  Fiji  has  been  fortunate  in  her  rulers. 

The  Governor  of  Fiji  is  also  High  Commissioner  of 
the  Western  Pacific,  holding  jurisdiction  over  all  British 
owned  and  protected  groups  in  those  seas,  and  also  over 
British  subjects  living  in  groups  owned  by  other  countries, 
or  not  owned  at  all.  These  powers  are  by  no  means 
nominal;  the  position,  indeed,  is  one  of  highest  respon- 
sibility, and  the  cause  of  law  and  order  in  the  islands 
generally  has  benefited  much  since  the  strong  hand  of 
British  authority  has  extended  its  powers  so  far. 

The  Governor  is  assisted  by  an  executive  council  of 
five,  and  a  legislative  council  of  twelve,  six  of  whom  are 
unofficial  members  elected  by  popular  vote.  The  natives 
are  governed  through  their  chiefs,  who  are  appointed  by 
the  Governor.  There  are  several  degrees  of  official  chief, 
the  smallest  being  the  chief  of  a  town  called  the  Turango 
ni  Koro.  Over  each  district  is  a  superior  chief,  with  con- 
siderable power,  called  a  Mbuli,  and  the  whole  country  is 
divided  into  sixteen  provinces,  fourteen  of  which  are 
ruled  over  by  native  chiefs  who  rank  for  the  most  part 
as  princes,  and  are  called  "Roko  Tui."  The  remaining 
two  are  under  the  control  of  British  magistrates.  The 
chief  of  one  province  (Kandavu),  is  the  grandson  of 
Thakombau,  and  would  be  King  of  Fiji  were  the  country 
not  the  property  of  Great  Britain.  He  is  quite  contented, 
however,  being  very  well  off,  and  held  in  considerable 
honour  by  natives  and  whites.  He  is  the  only  one  of 
the  chiefs  who  habitually  wears  European  dress;  the 
others  preferring  the  national  kilt  or  "sulu,"  worn  with 
a  shirt,  and  without  shoes. 

The  present  Governor,  Sir  Eveiard  im  Thurn,  C.B., 


DESCRIPTIVE  AND  HUMOROUS  15 

K.C.M.G.,  came  into  office  in  1904.  Although  his 
time  has  been  short,  it  has  been  long  enough  to  prove 
that  in  him  the  islands  have  the  ablest  ruler  they  have 
yet  enjoyed.  Much  has  been  done  to  improve  the  con- 
dition of  the  lower-class  natives  and  repress  the  occasional 
exactions  of  the  chiefs.  Public  works  have  been  under- 
taken, obsolete  laws  removed,  and  representation  in 
council  granted  to  the  planters.  The  vexatious  ancient 
system  of  land-tenure,  which  was  complicated  and  un- 
satisfactory, and  a  serious  bar  to  settlement,  has  been 
reformed,  and  many  minor  improvements  made,  under 
circimistances  difficult  enough  to  excuse  most  rulers  from 
attempting  any  reform  at  all.  Fiji  certainly  owes  much 
to  Sir  Everard  im  Thum.  Nor  must  the  influence  in 
the  colony  of  Lady  im  Thurn  pass  without  notice.  There 
has  never  been  a  more  popular  governor's  wife  in  Fiji 
than  this  exceptionally  cultured  and  charming  lady,  who 
has  so  far  identified  herself  with  the  interests  of  her  South 
Sea  home  that  she  has  even  acquired  the  Fijian  language, 
and  speaks  fluently  to  the  native  dignitaries  in  their  own 
tongue  when  chiefs  are  entertained  at  Government  House. 

The  decline  of  the  native  population  is  a  matter  that 
has  occupied  the  attention  of  many  governors,  but  so  far 
it  continues  unchecked.  It  is  not  as  serious  as  the  fall 
that  has  taken  place  in  the  Cook  Islands  and  other 
British  dependencies,  but  nevertheless  the  numbers  of 
the  people,  no  matter  what  is  done  to  ensure  good  hygiene 
in  the  villages,  and  to  preserve  infant  life,  fall  by  some 
hundreds  every  year.  The  1901  census  gave  the  follow- 
ing result  for  the  entire  colony,  including  the  outlying 
island  of  Rotumah:  Europeans,  2549;  half-castes,  15 16; 
Indian  coolies,  1 7, 105  ;  islanders  from  other  Pacific  groups, 
1950;  miscellaneous,  457;  Fijians,  96,631.  Total,  120,128. 

The  reasons  suggested  for  the  decline  are  many — 


1 6  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

introduction  of  European  diseases,  increase  of  chest 
troubles  owing  to  the  wearing  of  clothes,  over-indulgence 
in  tobacco  (especially  in  the  case  of  nursing  mothers), 
improper  feeding  of  infants,  &c.,  &c.  No  one,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  really  knows  why  almost  every  Pacific 
race  dies  out  by  degrees  through  contact  with  the  white, 
and  certainly  no  one  knows  how  to  stop  the  decline.  The 
causes  do  not  lie  so  near  the  surface  as  might  be  supposed. 
Here  and  there,  all  over  the  Pacific,  one  meets  with  a 
stray  island — sometimes  part  of  a  rapidly  declining  group 
— in  which  the  population  is  more  than  holding  its  own, 
without  any  apparent  reason.  Niu^  is  one  example, 
Mangaia  is  another,  and  it  has  been  claimed  that  the 
Tongan  people  are  not  diminishing,  though  satisfactory 
proof  of  this  is  not  at  present  to  be  had.  In  any  case, 
Fiji  is  not  among  the  lucky  nations,  and  so  far  has  the 
population  declined  even  since  the  cannibal  days,  that 
large  tracts  of  fertile  land  are  lying  waste  and  uninhabited 
in  many  parts  of  the  group.  Some  of  this  is  being  taken 
up,  with  the  assistance  and  encouragement  of  the  Govern- 
ment, by  those  Indian  coolies  who  do  not  take  advantage 
of  the  free  return  passage  at  the  end  of  the  five  years  for 
which  they  are  engaged  to  work  in  the  plantations.  The 
Indians  make  industrious  cultivators  and  good  subjects  on 
the  whole,  and  as  they  increase  very  rapidly,  the  time 
cannot  be  many  generations  removed  when  an  Indian 
population  will  have  replaced  altogether  the  dying-out 
Fijian  race.  It  may  yet  happen,  however,  that  science 
will  find  some  means  of  arresting  the  decay,  and  that  one 
of  the  finest  coloured  races  in  the  world  will  be  saved  from 
an  extinction  which  every  colonist  and  traveller  would 
deeply  regret.  The  Fijians  themselves  are,  unfortunately, 
quite  indifferent  about  the  matter. 

The  trade  of  Fiji  is  by  no  means  a  negligible  quantity. 


FIJIAN  CHIEFS.     ARMED  NATIVE  CONSTABULARY  BEHIND 


FIJIAN  CHIEF 


ARMED  NATIVE  CONSTABULARY 


DESCRIPTIVE  AND  HUMOROUS  17 

The  value  of  the  yearly  exports  amounts  to  well  over  half 
a  million  annually,  and  the  imports  are  nearly  as  much. 
Sugar  is  the  most  important  product.  The  Colonial 
Sugar  Refining  Company  owns  much  of  the  good  river-fiat 
country,  and  employs  quite  an  army  of  employees  of  all 
kinds,  apart  from  the  thousands  of  imported  Indian 
labourers  who  cultivate  the  land.  A  good  many  inde- 
pendent planters  cultivate  cane  for  the  company  at  a 
fixed  price,  and  seem  to  do  well  on  the  proceeds.  Bananas 
are  largely  grown,  and  exported  for  the  most  part  to 
Australia.  Peanuts  have  been  tried  lately,  with  some 
success.  Tea  and  coffee  are  both  grown,  but  do  not 
usually  attain  to  the  best  quality.  Copra  (the  dried  meat 
of  the  cocoanut)  is  a  very  important  article  of  commerce, 
and  many  planters  have  done  extremely  well  with  it. 
Stock-raising  is  carried  on  with  considerable  success  in 
Taviuni,  about  Ba,  and  other  parts  of  the  colony.  There 
are  a  number  of  minor  industries  and  products  which  are 
still  more  or  less  on  trial,  among  them  vanilla  and  drugs 
of  many  kinds.     The  timber  industry  is  important. 

And  now,  having  been  serious  for  so  long,  we  may 
look  for  a  little  amusement.  We  have  not  yet  finished 
our  study  of  Fijian  social  and  economic  conditions,  but 
we  can  find  all  the  humour  we  require  without  going 
outside  it.  Is  there  not  the  penal  system  still  to  consider  ? 
Certainly,  at  home,  one  does  not  look  for  delicate  humour 
inside  the  walls  of  a  jail,  or  expect  practical  jokes  in  the 
shape  of  a  convict  system.  In  topsy-turvy  Fiji,  how- 
ever, the  whole  penal  apparatus  is  one  gigantic  jest,  and 
is  regarded  as  such  by  most  of  the  whites,  and  not  a  few 
of  the  natives. 

To  begin  with,  there  is  hardly  any  real  crime,  what 
there  is   being  furnished  chiefly  by  the  Indian  labourers 


i8  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

employed  on  the  estates  of  the  Colonial  Sugar  Refining 
Company.  The  Fijians  themselves,  though  less  than 
two  generations  removed  from  the  wild  and  wicked  days 
of  the  Thakombau  reign,  are  an  extremely  peaceable 
and  good-natured  set  of  people.  In  the  fifties  and 
sixties,  and  even  later,  murder,  torture  and  cannibalism 
were  the  chief  diversions  of  a  Fijian's  life,  and  the  power 
of  working  one's  self  into  a  more  violent  and  unrestrained 
fit  of  rage  than  any  one  else  of  one's  acquaintance  was  an 
elegant  and  much-sought-after  accomplishment.  This 
change,  effected  largely  by  the  work  of  the  missionaries, 
but  also  by  the  civilising  influences  of  the  British  Govern- 
ment, and  of  planters  and  traders  innumerable,  is  most 
notable.  Nothing  can  be  more  amiable  and  good-natured 
than  the  Fijian  of  to-day;  no  coloured  citizen  in  all  the 
circle  of  the  British  Colonies  is  less  inclined  to  crime. 
Yet  the  great  jail  in  Suva,  and  the  various  smaller  ones 
dotted  about  among  the  country  police-stations,  are 
always  well  filled;  for  the  Fijian,  being  naturally  rather 
thick-headed,  manages,  in  spite  of  all  his  amiability,  to 
run  up  against  the  British  Constitution  every  now  and 
then.  There  are  laws  for  his  guidance  and  restraint  that 
do  not  exactly  please  him;  and,  as  he  cheerfully  drives 
a  coach-and-six,  or  its  Fijian  equivalent,  right  through 
them  whenever  he  feels  inclined,  it  follows  that  an  inter- 
lude of  jail  is  an  extremely  common  incident  in  Fijian  life. 

"  What  are  most  of  the  prisoners  in  jail  for  ? "  I  asked 
a  government  official  one  day. 

"Saying  'Boo!'  to  a  Buli,"  he  replied;  "that's  about 
the  commonest  crime.  You  see,  no  Fijian  is  allowed 
to  leave  his  village  without  the  permission  of  the  Buli,  or 
chief  of  the  district." 

"What  on  earth  for?" 

"  Well,  the  idea  is  that  the  village  can't  get  on  with- 


r 


L:-.2C^i.|. 


SUGAR  BOATS,  REWA  RIVER 


A  FIJIAN  JAIL 


DESCRIPTIVE  AND  HUMOROUS  19 

out  him.  But  sometimes  he  goes  off  without  leave,  and 
when  the  BuH  sends  for  him  to  come  back,  he  tells  him 
to  go  and  put  his  head  in  a  bag — or  words  to  that  effect. 
So  then  the  Buli  has  him  arrested  by  the  native  police, 
and  taken  to  Suva  for  trial  and  imprisonment.  That  is 
the  law." 

"Aren't  there  any  other  offences?" 

"Oh,  yes.  Sometimes  they  don't  pay  their  taxes, 
which  have  to  be  paid  in  kind,  to  encourage  industry: 
so  much  tobacco,  or  maize,  or  timber,  or  what  not.  Then 
it's  jail  again.  And  sometimes  they  run  away  when 
they  have  entered  into  a  contract  to  stay  a  certain 
time  working  at  a  special  place.  And  just  now 
and  then — though  very  seldom — some  man  hits  another 
over  the  head  with  a  club  for  running  away  with 
his  girl;  so  there's  another  case.  One  way  and  another, 
the  jails  are  kept  at  work." 

"Well,  it  seems  to  me  cruel  and  tyrannical  to  make 
convicts  of  the  poor  Fijians  for  such  trifles." 

"  Oh,  is  it  ?  You  wait  and  see ! " 

I  did.  I  saw.  And  I  felt,  on  the  whole,  that  my 
sentimental  pity  was  wasted. 

The  jail  in  Suva  is  a  most  imposing  place.  It  presents 
a  fine  stone  wall  of  considerable  height  to  the  view  of 
the  visitor  coming  up  the  road ;  and  there  is  a  great  gate, 
and  a  small  door  to  come  in  by,  quite  like  a  European 
jail.  But  when  you  have  got  inside,  and  begun  to  notice 
the  buildings  scattered  about  the  courtyard — dormitories, 
solitary  cells,  cook-houses,  and  what  not — it  comes  upon 
you  w4th  something  of  a  shock  that  the  imposing  wall  is 
nothing,  after  all,  but  a  joke — one  of  the  many  jokes  of 
the  wonderful  Fijian  penal  system.  It  extends  round 
only  three  sides  of  the  grounds,  leaving  the  back  com- 
pletely open  to  the  bush  and  the  hills — as  if  the  whole 


20  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

establishment  were  a  toy  to  be  set  on  the  mantelshelf, 
and  looked  at  only  from  the  front. 

"What  on  earth  is  that  wall  for?"  I  asked,  in  a 
state  of  stupefaction. 

"To  look  pretty.  Don't  you  think  it  looks  pretty?" 
solicitously  asked  the  friend  who  was  accompanying  me. 

"Do  they  never  run  away?" 

"Hardly  ever,  and  if  they  do,  they  generally  come 
back." 

"Why  do  they  stay,  when  they  needn't?" 

"  Well,  I  think,  because  they  rather  like  being  in  jail!" 

This  statement  seemed  almost  too  much  to  swallow 
at  one  time,  but  I  found  out  afterward  it  was  very  near 
the  truth.  The  Fijian  attaches  no  disgrace  whatever 
to  being  in  jail;  indeed,  it  would  be  hard  for  him  to  do  so, 
since  the  larger  proportion  of  his  acquaintance  have 
passed  through  that  experience  at  one  time  or  another. 
He  regards  it  as  a  slight  inconvenience;  an  interruption 
to  his  occupations  at  home,  largely  compensated,  how- 
ever, by  the  delights  of  a  trip  on  a  steamer  down  to 
Suva,  and  a  sight  of  the  busy  capital.  Furthermore,  he 
is  sure  to  find  plenty  of  old  friends  in  the  jail,  and  they 
welcome  him  jo>"fully. 

"A-wa-we!  Reubeni,  is  that  you?  Well,  well,  I'm 
glad  to  see  you.  Here,  Wiliami,  Lomai,  Volavola! 
Here's  Reubeni  from  Thakandrove!  Come  along,  Reu- 
beni, we're  just  going  to  supper.  Why,  you've  come 
at  a  splendid  time;  most  of  us  are  gardening  at  the 
Kovana's  (Governor's),  and  there's  going  to  be  a  big 
festival  in  the  grounds  to-morrow,  and  a  tug-of-war. 
You've  never  been  to  Suva,  have  you?  No — well,  it's 
a  fine  place,  and  very  gay  just  now.  I  hope  you'll  enjoy 
your  stay." 

This,  or  something  like    it,  spoken  in  Fijian,  is  the 


DESCRIPTIVE  AND  HUMOROUS  21 

prisoner's  welcome  to  the  jail.  He  is  lodged  in  a  building 
fitted  up  with  long  shelves,  on  which  he  sleeps  very 
comfortably,  and  is  looked  after  by  a  warder  belonging 
to  the  Armed  Native  Constabulary,  who  usually  acts  as 
a  sort  of  general  servant  to  the  prisoners,  preparing 
their  food  for  them,  and  making  himself  universally 
handy.  In  the  morning,  refreshed  and  inspirited  by  a 
meal  considerably  better  than  anything  he  gets  at  home, 
the  convict  starts  out  with  a  group  of  friends,  in  charge 
of  a  warder,  to  the  place  where  he  is  assigned  to  work. 
Probably  he  has  been  put  on  hard  labour,  but — unless 
there  is  any  roadmaking  or  building  to  be  done — the 
labour  available  is  not  very  exhausting.  The  grass 
edgings  and  lawns  of  the  town  want  a  good  deal  of  trim- 
ming, so  the  convict  probably  has  a  knife  handed  over 
to  him,  with  a  sharp,  heavy  blade,  two  feet  long,  and 
squats  down  on  the  grass  by  the  border  of  the  main 
street,  to  hack  and  trim  at  his  ease  all  day.  Perhaps 
his  neighbour  is  a  friend  from  home,  sent  to  jail  for  break- 
ing a  labour  contract;  perhaps  it  is  an  Indian  who  has 
killed  a  Sugar  Company  overseer,  and  cut  him  into  little 
bits.  In  any  case,  they  squat  side  by  side,  dressed  alike 
in  neat  shirts  and  "salus"  of  unbleached  calico  stamped 
over  with  broad  arrows,  working  away  in  as  leisurely 
a  manner  as  possible,  and  thoroughly  enjoying  the  gay 
sight  presented  by  the  busy  main  street.  .  .  .  There 
is  a  steamer  in  to-day;  the  pavement  is  dotted  with 
tourists — British,  American,  Colonial — armed  with  guide- 
books and  cameras  and  the  totally  unnecessary  pugaree 
that  the  travelling  Briton  loves  to  deck  himself  withal. 
The  tourists  look  at  the  convicts  and  their  knives  appre- 
hensively. Reubeni  is  a  mountain  lad,  and  his  hair  is 
very  wild  and  long,  and  his  teeth  are  big  and  sharp,  and 
he    looks    cannibal    every    inch,    though    in  reality  he 


22  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

is  as  mild  as  milk,  and  the  light  of  the  local  Sunday- 
school.     .     .     . 

"James!  James!"  vociferates  a  lady  tourist,  fat 
and  elderly  and  nervous.  "  Why  did  you  not  bring  your 
revolver  on  shore  with  you,  as  I  told  you?  I  am  sure 
these  savages  are  most  dangerous — and  the  road  is 
literally  full  of  convict  murderers  and  thieves,  all  armed 
with  daggers!     Do  let  us  go  back  to  the  steamer!" 

But  perhaps  Reubeni  has  some  other  variety  of  "  hard 
labour"  assigned  to  him.  The  Government  Office  up 
on  the  hill — a  great  bee-hive  of  red-roofed  buildings, 
full  of  rooms  and  "departments" — ^needs  a  good  many 
messengers,  and  all  day  long  one  may  see  stalwart, 
jolly-looking  Fijians  in  broad-arrowed  suits  loafing 
agreeably  on  the  shady  verandas,  or  strolling  about  the 
town,  conveying  letters  to  Government  House,  or  the 
Commandant  of  the  Forces,  or  the  Club,  or  the  Bank. 
Every  letter  means  a  pleasant  "yam"  with  the  house- 
servants,  and  perhaps  a  lump  of  cold  yam,  or  a  bit  of 
tinned  meat,  out  of  the  kitchen,  while  the  answer  is  being 
written.  There  may  be  money  to  send  to,  or  from,  the 
Bank,  or  from  one  department  to  another.  The  convict 
carries  it,  gets  a  receipt,  and  brings  it  back  again.  His 
acquaintances  among  the  white  people  recognise  him 
pleasantly  as  he  passes. 

"  Well,  Reubeni,  you  up  here !     What  are  you  in  for  ? " 

"Not  paying  taxes,  saka  (sir)." 

"That's  very  wicked  of  you.  you  won't  go  to  Heaven 
if  you  don't  pay  your  taxes,  you  lazy  beggar.  Is  this 
your  first  time?" 

"Eo,   saka   (Yes,   sir).     I   have  never   been   in   the 
King's  service  before."     (Fijian  term  for  being  in  jail). 

"How  do  you  like  it?" 

"  It  is  not  a  bad  service,  saka,  we  have  plenty  to  eat." 


DESCRIPTIVE  AND  HUMOROUS  23 

"Well,  look  me  up  when  your  time  is  out,  if  you'd 
like  to  engage  in  Suva;  I  want  a  house-boy." 

"Savinaka,   saka   (Very  good,   sir).     I   will   come;  I 
think  your  service  will  be  quite  as  good  as  the  jail,  saka." 

One  of  the  pet  jokes  of  Suva  is  the  home-going  of 
Reubeni  and  his  kind,  every  evening  a  little  before  six 
o'clock.  The  gates  of  the  jail  are  closed  at  six,  and  a 
few  minutes  earlier  gangs  of  prisoners  can  be  seen  col- 
lecting from  every  part  of  the  town — some  under  the 
care  of  a  warder,  but  many  alone — all  hurrying  anxiously 
toward  the  jail.  As  the  hour  draws  nearer,  they  hurry 
more  and  more,  and  many  begin  to  run,  with  anxiety 
painted  plain  on  their  copper  countenances.  If  they  are 
not  in  at  six  o'clock,  a  terrible  punishment  awaits  them — 
a  punishment  they  would  do  an3rthing  to  avoid.  Dis- 
cipline must  be  kept  up,  and  there  is  no  mercy  for  the 
prisoner  who  neglects  the  closing  hour. 

What  happens  to  him? 

He  is  shut  out  of  jail. 

No  supper  for  him — an  unspeakable  calamity  this — 
no  evening  gossip,  no  bed  Until  to-morrow  he  is  an 
outcast  without  a  home.  You  may  see  him,  perhaps> 
if  you  drive  past  the  jail  a  little  after  sunset,  crouching 
low  on  the  threshold  of  the  gateway,  wiping  his  tearful 
eyes  with  the  hem  of  his  broad-arrowed  "sulu,"  and 
presenting  an  excellent  living  picture  of  the  famous  line: 

"Oh,  who  would  inhabit  this  cold  world  alone?" 

Poor  Fijian! 

I  was  staying  with  the  resident  magistrate  in  one  of 
the  Vanua  Levu  districts  during  my  subsequent  tour, 
and,  hearing  that  there  was  a  vanilla  plantation  some 
eight  miles  away,  asked  if  I  could  go  and  see  it. 


24  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

"Oh,  certainly,"  said  my  host.  "You  can  go  on 
a  truck  down  the  company's  tram-Hne — they  allow  all 
the  white  residents  to  use  it — and  I'll  send  a  couple  of 
convicts  with  you,  as  I  can't  go  myself  to-day!" 

The  convicts  were  produced — a  pair  of  sleepy,  wild- 
haired  Fijians,  in  jail  clothing — and  the  magistrate  told 
them  to  push  the  truck  for  me  down  to  the  plantation, 
and  wait  till  I  came  back  to  it. 

"Savinaka,  saka,"  they  replied,  saluting  in  military 
fashion,  and  off  we  set — myself  in  a  kitchen  chair  perched 
somewhat  perilously  upon  a  fiat,  edgeless  truck,  the 
convicts  standing  one  each  side  of  me,  also  upon  the 
truck,  and  "putting"  it  along  with  poles.  They  kept 
up  an  astonishing  pace  along  the  eight  miles  of  line, 
being  in  excellent  spirits  over  their  job,  which  certainly 
was  pleasanter  than  the  monotonous  rice-husking  on 
which  they  had  been  at  work.  I  should  have  preferred 
their  being  a  little  less  happy,  however,  if  it  had  made 
them  a  little  less  reckless,  for  they  punted  the.  crazy 
vehicle  along  at  fifteen  miles  an  hour  round  every  curve, 
and  chanced  the  meeting  or  overtaking  of  anything  else; 
the  result  of  which  was  that,  on  one  occasion,  we  swept 
round  a  corner  "full  bat"  toward  an  advancing  truck 
occupied  by  eight  Indians  going  up  to  the  settlement 
we  had  just  left.  It  was  a  single  line,  and  destruction 
seemed  imminent;  however,  the  Indians,  seeing  a  "mem- 
sahib"  on  the  truck  that  was  roaring  down  upon  them 
like  a  devouring  lion,  leaped  wildly  from  their  seats,  and 
contrived  by  unearthly  efforts  to  overset  their  own 
vehicle  off  the  line  into  the  ditch  alongside,  where  it 
lay  with  its  whirling  wheels  turned  up  to  Heaven,  look- 
ing extremely  like  a  helpless,  overturned  beetle,  as  we 
rushed  wildly  past. 

Arrived  at  the  plantation,  the  convicts  sat  down  on 


DESCRIPTIVE  AND  HUMOROUS  25 

the  truck,  and  feasted  on  biscuits  and  tinned  salmon 
which  I  bought  for  them  at  the  store  (having  been 
solemnly  warned  by  the  Government  of  Fiji  not  to  dare 
to  give  them  money).  I  spent  an  hour  or  two  in  the 
plantation,  and  returned  when  I  was  ready.  The  jail- 
birds, who  could,  of  course,  have  run  away  a  hundred 
times  over  if  they  had  felt  like  it,  were  asleep  in  the  shade, 
waiting  my  pleasure.  We  spun  merrily  home  again,  and 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill  leading  to  the  house  my  two  con- 
victs delivered  me  back  safely  to  my  host,  and  I  delivered 
them  back  to  the  same  person.  Whether  they  were  in 
charge  of  me  for  the  day,  or  I  of  them,  is  a  problem  that 
I  have  not  yet  been  able  to  solve,  even  with  the  aid  of 
mathematics,  because,  if  things  that  are  equal  to  the  same 
thing  are  equal  to  one  another,  and  if  the  convicts  were 
equal  to  taking  charge  of  me  and  I  was  equal  to  taking 
charge  of  them,  then  we  were  equal  to  each  other — which 
means  either  that  they  were  English  lady  travellers  or 
that  I  was  a  Fijian  convict;  and  both  solutions  seem 
unsatisfactory  somehow. 

One  other  form  of  hard  labour  inflicted  on  the  Fijian 
convict  is  worth  noting.  The  mails  from  Suva  are 
frequently  carried  up-country,  to  distances  of  forty  or 
fifty  miles,  by  convict  letter-carriers!  They  journey 
alone,  always  come  back  as  nearly  up  to  time  as  a  Fijian 
can,  and  evidently  see  nothing  anomalous  in  the  fact  of 
being  thus  made  their  own  jailors. 

One  might  have  a  worse  billet,  in  a  hard  and  mis- 
trustful world,  than  that  of  a  Fijian  convict. 


CHAPTER  II 

ON  THE  TRAIL 

Garden  of  the  Swiss  Family  Robinson — Over  the  Hills  and 
Far  Away — The  Pandanus  Prairies — Fijian  Luggage 
— The  Curse  of  the  Spotted  Bun — A  Tropical  Forest — 
Benighted  on  the  Way 

WHEN  I  had  driven  up  to  the  top  of  the  Flag-staff 
hill  in  Suva,  gone  to  see  the  Botanic  Gardens, 
boated  up  the  Tamavua  River,  looked  at  Thak- 
ombau's  monument,  exhausted  the  attractions  of  the 
curio  shops,  and  seen  something  of  Suva  society  (which 
is  tiresomely  like  society  at  home,  though  so  hospitable 
and  kindly  that  one  must  forgive  it),  somebody  very 
kindly  told  me  about  the  plantations  on  the  other  side 
of  the  harbour,  and  thereby  started  me  on  a  quest  after 
information  spiced  with  amusement  that  lasted  the  better 
part  of  six  months,  and  gave  me  what  was,  on  the  whole, 
the  second-best,  if  not  the  best,  time  of  all  my  life. 

The  sail  over  to  the  plantation  was  a  journey  of 
exquisite  loveliness,  for  Suva  Harbour  is  famous  even 
among  the  countless  beautiful  harbours  of  the  wonderful 
South  Sea  world.  But  it  did  not  interest  me  very  much 
on  the  return  journey.  I  had  been  seeing  and  hearing 
things  that  made  me  think. 

There  seemed  to  be  nothing  that  did  not  grow  in  the 
place  I  had  been  seeing.  Unkindly  discredit  has  been  cast 
on  the  dear  old  "  Swiss  Family  Robinson  "  and  its  remark- 
ably catholic  list  of  fauna  and  flora :  vet  it  appeared  to  me, 

27 


28  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

walking  about  the  plantation — a  mere  private  experiment, 
unsupported  by  much  capital — that  I  had  stepped  right 
back  into  childhood  and  the  pages  of  that  marvellous 
book.  Bananas,  oranges  and  pine-apples  were,  of  course, 
as  common  as  dust.  Allspice  dangled  on  one  green  bough, 
fat  red  chillies  on  another.  Turmeric,  excellent  for 
curries ;  fragrant  limes,  delicate  vanilla,  croton  and  castor 
oils,  ramie  fibre,  erythroxylon  coca  (where  the  cocaine 
comes  from),  gum  arabic,  sisal  hemp,  cassia,  teak,  West 
India  arrowroot,  cloves,  annatto,  areca-nut  palms,  ginger, 
cocoa,  papya,  and  a  whole  regiment  of  other  useful  or 
pleasant  things,  "flourished"  (as  the  early  Victorian 
novels  used  to  say)  "  in  the  richest  luxuriance."  And  all 
these  plants,  without  exception,  had  been  proved  to  do 
exceptionally  well  in  Fiji.  Many  of  them  grew  wild  all 
over  the  country;  others,  imported  (such  as  cocoa,  all- 
spice and  vanilla),  had  produced  seeds  and  beans  of  a 
quality  surpassing  anything  else  in  the  markets  of  the 
world.  Withal,  there  were  tens  of  thousands  of  acres  all 
over  the  islands  unused  and  unoccupied;  white  settlers 
and  planters  seldom  or  never  came  to  try  their  luck,  and 
the  resources  of  this,  the  richest  of  all  the  rich  Pacific 
archipelagoes,  was  not  one-hundredth  part  developed. 

As  to  the  reason  of  this,  Suva,  the  European  capital, 
could  offer  me  no  suggestion,  except  the  old,  familiar 
statement  that  no  one  had  ever  tried  these  things,  and, 
therefore,  no  one  ever  ought.  A  few  Government  officials, 
primed  with  figures  that  looked  extremely  useful,  and, 
somehow,  weren't,  gave  me  quantities  of  information 
that  left  the  matter  just  where  it  was  before.  It  is  a 
strange  fact,  and  one  I  cannot  explain,  though  I  have 
often  noted  it,  that  Government  information  seems  to 
lose  much  of  its  vitality  in  the  canning  process.  It  is 
like  canned  butter  or  meat  correct  in  weight,  good  to 


ON  THE  TRAIL  29 

look  at,  of  excellent  material,  and  yet,  somehow,  unsatis- 
fying in  the  end. 

So  it  came  about  that  I  made  a  resolve,  and  kept 
to  it,  in  spite  of  the  objections  of  Suva — Suva,  which 
was  clearly  convinced,  first,  that  I  could  not;  secondly, 
that  I  ought  not;  and  thirdly,  that  I  should  find  it  use- 
less— to  go  through  the  interior  of  the  islands  myself  and 
see  just  what  the  native  and  his  life  were  like,  and  of 
what  value  the  country  still  might  be  to  possible  settlers. 

One  or  two  white  women,  accompanied  by  Europeans, 
had  seen  a  little  of  the  native  country  in  recent  years; 
but  none  had  gone  very  far,  and  certainly  none  had  ever 
travelled  alone,  I  was  told.  Were  the  natives  cannibal 
now?  Certainly  not;  cannibalism  was  as  dead  in  the  Fijis 
as  painting  with  woad  in  England.  Were  they  rude  to 
strangers?  By  no  means;  they  were  the  soul  of  hospi- 
tality. But  the  sum  of  objection  remained  the  same — 
the  objectors,  who  had  never  been  ten  miles  from  Suva 
themselves,  maintaining  that  "it  was  too  rough." 

One  can  always  find  the  man  who  really  knows,  if 
one  takes  time.  I  found  him — a  Government  dignitary 
of  brisk  and  authoritative  presence,  energetic  to  the  ends 
of  his  smartly  trained  moustache,  learned  in  the  ways  of 
wild  countries,  and  (strange  to  say)  knowing  not  a  little 
of  the  country  he  was  engaged  in  helping  to  govern.  He 
did  not  feed  me  with  statistics,  but  came  down  at  once 
to  fact. 

"  Rough?  Yes,  but  not  too  much  so,"  he  said.  "  Cer- 
tainly, go  if  you  fancy  it;  you'll  have  a  royal  time.  The 
natives  are  capital  fellows;  they'll  make  a  queen  of  you 
everywhere  you  go,  and  you'll  see  some  of  the  finest 
scenery  in  the  world.  Firearms?  Well,  you  might  as 
well  have  a  Colt  with  you,  as  not;  it's  eas;  tc  carry — 
but    you    won't    need    it.     .     .     .     No    trouble    at  all. 


30  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

Anything  else  that  I  can  do?  .  .  .  Well,  good-bye, 
and  good  luck ! ' ' 

Then  came  the  delightful  preparations,  I  had  never 
been  "off  the  road"  before,  and  everything  that  had  to 
be  bought  was  an  added  prophecy  of  enjoyment.  The 
side-saddle,  the  leather  saddle-bags  for  small  articles, 
the  minute  steel  trunk,  two  feet  by  one,  for  all  my  clothes ; 
the  mosquito-net  and  oilcloth-covered  pillow,  the  tin 
billy  for  tea-making,  tin  cups  and  saucers,  common  knife 
and  fork  and  spoon,  common  canvas  shoes  for  rough 
walking,  parcels  of  ship's  biscuits,  tinned  meat,  tea  and 
sugar  and  salt — all  spoke  eloquently  of  freedom,  and  the 
"call  of  the  road,"  and  long,  bright  days  under  the  open 
sky.  And  when  I  had  engaged  a  time-expired  native 
soldier  of  the  Governor's  armed  constabulary  force  to  act 
as  interpreter  and  courier,  and  picked  up  a  couple  of 
carriers  at  Ba,  the  "  jumping-off  place"  into  the  unknown, 
I  was  absolutely  inflated  with  pride,  and  felt  that  Stanley, 
Burton  and  Speke  were  not  to  be  named  with  myself. 

It  would,  of  course,  have  been  possible  to  walk 
throughout  the  trip.  But  Fiji  lies  between  the  fifteenth 
and  twenty-first  parallels  of  south  latitude,  and  its  hot 
season  is  no  trifle.  By  riding,  I  could  cover  twenty  to 
thirty  miles  daily  of  rough  mountain  bridle-tracks  (there 
being  no  roads  in  the  interior)  without  suffering  from  the 
heat,  or  feeling  any  fatigue,  whereas  the  same  amount 
of  walking,  in  a  tropical  climate,  would  have  been  tiring 
and  extremely  hot.  As  for  the  men,  forty  miles  a  day 
would  not  have  exceeded  their  powers ;  they  were  always 
on  the  heels  of  my  horse,  burdened  though  they  were; 
and  they  travelled  with  a  long,  slow,  wolf -like  stride  that 
never  slacked  or  altered,  up  hill  or  down,  no  matter  what 
the  heat  might  be,  or  how  sharply  the  rough  track  inclined. 

Ba,  the  last  fortress  of  civilisation  on  the  northern 


^^^^^^■■H 

r-« 

"^ 

M 

^^Sl 

^ 

ON  THE  TRAIL  31 

side  of  the  great  highland  region  I  was  to  cross,  is  a  half- 
Fijian,  half-European  town;  very  hot  in  the  burning  days 
of  March,  very  much  plagued  with  flies,  fairly  pretty,  and 
inordinately  devoted  to  the  interests  of  the  great  Sugar 
Company.  There  is  no  escaping  the  Colonial  Sugar 
Refining  Company  in  Fiji,  save  in  the  far  interior.  Thou- 
sands of  acres  are  covered  with  the  beautiful  verdigris- 
green  of  the  growing  canes ;  hundreds  of  the  white  popu- 
lation are  employed  as  overseers,  mechanics,  clerks  and 
managers  on  the  various  estates,  while,  as  for  the  Indian, 
Polynesian  and  Fijian  labourers,  they  form  a  very  large 
item  indeed  in  the  census  returns  of  the  islands.  I  have 
not  the  least  doubt  that  the  original  pioneers  of  this 
enormously  wealthy  company  were  met  with  exactly 
the  same  cold-water-bucket  comments  and  remonstrances 
as  the  smaller  would-be  planters  of  to-day.  The  "oldest 
inhabitant"  (who  is  just  as  unbearable  a  nuisance  in  Fiji 
as  in  any  English  shire)  must  certainly  have  told  them 
that  sugar  had  never  been  grown  in  the  Fijis,  therefore 
never  could  be;  that  the  cotton  industry  had  failed  be- 
cause of  the  close  of  the  American  Civil  War,  and,  on  that 
account,  all  planters  who  planted  anything  would  cer- 
tainly be  ruined ;  and  that  there  was  no  possible  market 
for  sugar,  if  they  did  succeed  in  growing  it.  Also,  that 
the  oldest  inhabitant  had  lived  %  years  in  Fiji,  and  you 
couldn't  teach  him  anything  (which  was  painfully  true). 
The  "C.  S.  R. "  has  drawn  its  hundreds  of  thousands 
out  of  Fiji  for  many  years  now;  but  the  oldest  inhabitant 
is  not  a  whit  abashed.  He  had  been  rampant  in  Suva; 
he  was  genuinely  distressed  at  my  leaving  Ba  for  the 
mountains.  There  was  only  wild  bush  and  barren  rock 
there,  he  said;  I  had  better  go  back  to  Suva  and  take 
drives  along  -^he  Rewa  Road,  if  I  wanted  to  be 
amused.     .     .     . 


32  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

But  what  mattered  the  oldest  inhabitant,  or  anyone 
else,  to  me,  that  splendid  morning  when  I  started  off 
with  my  three  Fijians  and  the  good  Australian  horse  that 
a  kindly  resident  had  lent  me,  toward  the  lonely  country 
of  the  brown  men  and  women,  away  from  white  faces  and 
white  folk's  unnecessary  luxuries,  into  the  wilds  at  last? 

These  first  times!  how  one  turns  back  to  them  again 
and  again  with  a  glow  of  kindly  remembrance,  in  the 
hours  w^hen  memory  sits  idle,  feeding  upon  the  honey- 
comb of  stored-up  delights!  The  first  day  in  a  foreign 
port  with  its  strange  brilliancy  of  light  and  colour,  and 
music  of  Southern  tongues — never  so  bright,  never  so 
musical  again — the  first  night  in  the  tropics  under  the 
silvered  palms  and  the  purple,  warm-breasted  sky — above 
all,  the  first  day  in  the  real  wilds,  alone  with  flowers  of  an 
alien  race,  whose  presence  scarcely  breaks  the  solitude; 
the  whole  responsibility  of  the  expedition  lying  upon 
one's  own  single  pair  of  shoulders  and  the  certainty  of  new 
experiences,  adventures,  perhaps  even  dangers,  making 
strange  music  upon  chords  that  have]  lain  untouched 
through  all  a  lifetime — such  first  times  possess  a  fresh- 
ness and  a  keen  delight  of  their  own,  as  perfect  as  first 
love  itself. 

The  weather  was  faultless,  although  the  sun  beat  hotly 
on  the  unprotected  track.  Fiji  has  one  of  the  few  really 
satisfactory  tropical  climates  of  the  world.  Its  hot  season 
is  never  too  hot  to  allow  of  travelling  in  the  middle  of  the 
day,  and  its  cool  season  is  no  warmer  than  an  English 
summer.  It  is  true  that  in  February,  the  month  when 
I  commenced  my  travels,  the  power  of  the  sun  is  almost 
alarming;  but  sunstroke  is  practically  unknown  in  the 
islands,  and  I  rode  all  day  with  perfect  safety,  protecting 
myself  from  the  scorching  rays  by  a  grass  hat  and  a  hol- 
land  coat,  worn  over  my  thin  cotton  blouse.     This  is 


A  MOUNTAIN  HOUSE 


ON  THE  TRAIL  33 

quite  necessary  for  riding  in  the  hot  season;  without  a 
coat,  one  feels  as  though  the  flesh  of  one's  neck,  arms  and 
shoulders  would  soon  begin  to  crackle  and  cook. 

But  the  molten-gold  glory  of  the  searching  sun  at 
high  noon — the  minute,  photographic  clearness  of  the 
"thousand  shadowy  pencilled  valleys"  on  the  far  horizon 
hills — ^the  fulness  of  light  and  life  poured  out  by  those 
blinding  rays  that  strike  down  through  the  slender  bush 
foliage  as  through  glass,  and  bleach  the  very  colour  out 
of  the  shadeless,  quivering  sky — these  things,  to  the 
traveller  from  the  dim  gray  north,  are  worth  all  the  heat 
and  glare,  destruction  of  hands  and  skin,  that  must  be 
encountered.  Enough  sun,  enough  light,  a  royal  pro- 
fusion of  God's  most  glorious  gift;  clear  air  like  crystal; 
a  far-reaching  sweep  of  silent,  sunny  prairie-land;  the 
warm  wind  in  the  feathered  guinea-grass;  the  long, 
unknown  track  winding  ahead  into  the  heart  of  wild, 
battlemented,  purple  hills — this  was  the  beginning  of  my 
hundred  miles'  march  through  the  great  island.  A  happy 
augury  of  happy  days  to  come. 

There  is  nothing  under  the  northern  star  quite  so 
quaint,  so  weird  and  witch-like,  as  the  pandanus  prairies 
of  Fiji.  The  pandanus,  or  screw-pine,  is  an  unnatural- 
looking  plant  at  the  best,  even  when  young  and  tender. 
It  begins  its  life  in  a  most  extraordinary  screw-like  shape, 
looking  much  as  though  some  malicious  hand  had  seized 
its  long  sword-like  leaves,  and  twisted  them  round  and 
round.  Later,  it  straightens  out,  and  grows  a  number 
of  tall  wooden  stilts,  on  which  it  stands,  firmly  sup- 
ported in  all  directions.  Its  foliage  now  consists  of  a 
number  of  drooping  mops,  inexpressibly  mournful  and 
depressed-looking.  Among  these  mops  hangs  the  fruit, 
very  like  a  pine-apple,  but  not  eatable  (for  Europeans), 
being  made  up  of  a  number  of  hard  red  and  yellow  kernels, 


34  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

woody  and  fibrous  in  structure.  It  is,  all  in  all,  a  most 
decadent-looking  thing,  strongly  suggestive  of  the 
eighteen-nineties  and  Aubrey  Beardsley — who,  it  is  true, 
did  not  know  or  draw  the  pandanus,  but  who  certainly 
ought  to  have  been  acquainted  with  such  a  kindred  spirit 
of  the  vegetable  kingdom. 

All  the  hot  morning  I  rode  over  rolling  uplands  of 
pandanus  prairie,  the  air  growing  cooler  as  the  heights 
increased,  the  threatening,  dark  hill-ranges  still  barring 
the  sky  in  front.  The  men,  striding  tirelessly  along  in 
the  rear,  caught  up  with  the  horse  every  time  I  stopped 
to  walk.  They  were  a  dandy  trio,  my  three  Fiji-men: 
neatly  dressed  in  white  singlets  and  coloured  cashmere 
"sulus"  finished  off  with  a  smart  leather  belt;  their 
hair  trained,  clipped  and  oiled  with  the  greatest  care, 
and  their  personal  luggage  tidily  packed  away  in  Fijian 
trunks.  A  Fijian  trunk  is  quite  a  curiosity  in  its  way. 
It  consists  simply  of  an  oblong  kerosene  tin,  about  eigh- 
teen inches  by  ten,  cut  in  half  lengthwise  and  the  halves 
fitted  over  each  other  after  the  fashion  of  those  Japanese 
travelling  baskets  that  have  become  so  common  of  late 
years.  Inside,  the  Fijian  carries  his  clothes,  his  "sulus" 
(a  "sulu"  is  a  piece  of  stuff  two  yards  square,  doubled 
and  fastened  round  the  loins  to  form  a  kilt)  of  cotton, 
cashmere,  or  flannel;  his  spare  shirt  or  singlet,  his  bottle 
of  cocoanut  oil,  looking-glass  and  wooden  comb,  with 
teeth  six  inches  long,  his  tobacco,  and  all  the  rest  of  his 
personal  property  of  every  kind.  Contact  with  the  white 
man  has  not  driven  out  the  stolid  common  sense  of  the 
Fiji-man,  so  far  as  to  induce  him  to  burden  his  life  with 
unnecessary  possessions.  Your  carrier  is  provided  for 
six  months  with  the  contents  of  that  little  tin.  He  will 
always  have  clean  clothes  and  a  smartly  dressed  head 
out  of  its  minute  store  of  goods;  and,  as  for  other  wants, 


ON  THE  TRAIL  35 

the  ever-ready  bush  and  river  supply  them.  A  razor? 
He  will  shave  himself  so  clean  with  a  chip  of  broken  glass, 
or  a  piece  of  shell,  that  you  doubt  his  ever  having  had  a 
beard.  A  sponge?  soap?  tooth-brush?  Green  cocoanuts 
supply  him  with  an  oily,  juicy  husk  that  does  the  work 
of  the  first  two,  and  as  for  the  third,  he  rinses  his  mouth 
after  eating,  and  that  is  enough  to  keep  his  magnificent 
teeth  in  repair,  even  if  he  does  put  them  to  uses  (such 
as  tearing  open  tins  that  resist  the  tin-opener,  and  husk- 
ing cocoanuts)  that  make  the  white  man's  grinders  shiver 
sympathetically  in  their  sockets.  He  does  not  wear 
shoes,  even  in  the  fullest  of  full  dress,  and  the  only  use 
for  a  pocket-handkerchief  that  he  knows  is  to  stick  it  in 
the  front  of  his  singlet,  for  style.  He  wears  a  night-cap 
— ^that  is,  a  deep  band  of  stuff  intended  to  keep  his  mar- 
vellous hair  erect — but  any  banana-tree  supplies  him 
with  that.  So  finely  has  he  cut  down  the  superfluities 
of  life,  that  he  does  not  even  possess  an  inch  of  cotton 
stuff  to  tie  up  a  chance  cut  with.  A  bit  of  dried  leaf, 
neatly  tied  on  with  banana  fibre,  will  serve  instead. 
With  the  inexhaustible  bush  to  draw  from,  he  is  never 
at  a  loss. 

About  midday  I  felt  hungry,  and  called  a  halt. 
Gideon,  my  personal  servant  and  interpreter,  came  up 
for  orders.  There  was  a  nice,  shady  little  spot  under  a 
big  rock,  and  it  seemed  an  excellent  place  to  boil  the 
kettle;  so  I  told  him  I  would  have  some  tea. 

A  Fijian's  face  is  as  plain  a  mirror  of  passing  thoughts 
as  a  child  s.  Gideon's  dark  countenance  expressed 
something  like  respectful  scorn,  if  such  an  emotion  were 
possible,  as  he  replied  briefly: 

"No  water  stop." 

I  felt  first  cousin  to  a  fool,  as  I  shook  my  horse 
into  a  canter  again.      No  water!      The  habits  of    the 


36  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

hotel-living  tourist  had  not  yet  been  fairly  shed.  How 
could  I  expect  taps  and  filters  on  the  Naloto  Range? 

Yet  there  was  something  curiously  pleasant  that  day, 
and  many  days  after,  in  the  dependence  on  Nature  her- 
self that  was  involved  in  just  such  delays  and  searchings. 
No  water  for  the  children  till  Mother  gave  it ;  no  lemon- 
ade, till  Mother  threw  a  dozen  great,  gold  citrons  or 
lemons  out  of  her  storehouse  into  their  hands;  no  rope 
to  tie  up  the  bundles,  if  Mother's  store  of  slender  tough 
lianas  was  not  at  hand ;  no  lantern  for  the  dark,  if  she  had 
not  lit  up  the  moon  in  time. 

I  was  meditating  thus,  on  the  bank  of  a  glassy  little 
stream,  half  an  hour  later,  when  the  boys  discovered 
that  nobody  had  got  any  matches  for  the  fire ;  and  down 
I  came  with  a  run.  I  did  not  feel  like  Stanley  now. 
Stanley  would  certainly  have  remembered  the  matches, 
nor  would  he  have  forgotten  to  carry  water,  even  if  he 
had  omitted  from  his  outfit  the  bag  of  spotted  buns  with 
which  the  last  trader  I  had  visited  had  successfully 
tempted  me.  I  did  not  feel  that  I  ought  to  have  had 
those  buns.  It  was  not  like  an  explorer;  it  was  sure  to 
bring  bad  luck.     And  now  there  were  no  matches. 

But  Joni  had  got  astride  a  bamboo  that  was  lying 
on  the  ground,  and  begun  hacking  at  it  with  his  knife, 
carving  a  small,  deep  groove  in  its  flinty  surface,  and 
carefully  shaping  a  splinter  he  had  cut  off  from  one  of 
the  broken  ends.  Now  Nasoni  seated  himself  opposite, 
and  held  down  the  bamboo  with  all  his  weight,  while 
Joni  rubbed  the  end  of  the  splinter  violently  up  and 
down  in  the  groove.  The  exertion  was  great,  and  he 
panted  as  he  worked;  but  it  was  several  minutes  before 
a  little  spire  of  smoke  rose  up  from  the  groove,  followed, 
shortly  after,  by  just  a  tiny  petal  of  orange  flame.  Nasoni 
was  ready  at  once  with  a  bit  of  crackling  dried  leaf ;  and 


JONI  MAKING  KIRE 


A  ROOT  OF  YANGGONA 


ON  THE  TRAIL  37 

in  another  twenty  seconds  the  fire  was  blazing  and  the 
billy  was  on,  while  the  boys  relaxed  after  their  efforts, 
and  tumbled  themselves  down  in  the  grass,  in  dislocated 
heaps  of  happy  laziness. 

So  I  had  really  seen  the  famous  South  Sea  method 
of  making  fire  by  rubbing  two  sticks  together!  I  had 
always  been  rather  sceptical  about  it,  at  best,  and  cer- 
tainly did  not  expect  to  see  a  Twentieth-Century  Fijian, 
who  dressed  in  "store"  cotton  stuffs,  and  went  to  church 
five  times  on  a  Sunday,  performing  this  famous  savage 
feat.  It  was  my  first  example  of  a  truth  most  thor- 
oughly rubbed  in  by  subsequent  events,  that  the  Fijian's 
civilisation  is  only  varnish-deep.  Cannibalism  has  been 
abandoned,  cruelty  and  torture  given  up,  an  ample 
amount  of  clothing  universally  adopted,  yet  the  Fijian 
of  to-day,  freed  from  the  white  control  and  example  that 
have  moulded  all  his  life,  would  spring  back  like  an  un- 
strung bow  to  the  thoughts  and  ways  of  his  fathers. 
This  is  a  truth  doubted  by  no  man  who  knows  the  inner 
life  of  Fiji. 

Taking  things  easily,  and  not  at  all  troubled  by  the 
fact  that  I  was  not  "making  good  time"  (that  malignant 
fetish  of  the  average  traveller),  I  found  myself,  in  the 
afternoon,  well  up  the  slopes  of  the  Naloto  Range,  and 
entering  the  forest.  For  the  best  part  of  ten  miles  I 
had  ridden  through  land  that  was  absolutely  deserted; 
land  where  the  great,  rolling  prairies  stretched  like  a 
pale-green  sea  to  right  and  left,  unbroken  save  by  the 
melancholy  mop-headed  ghosts  of  the  pandanus-tree. 
There  were  no  towns  or  houses,  not  so  much  as  a  stray 
native  padding  along  the  track,  or  a  patch  of  yam-  or 
taro-land,  to  show  that  the  country  was  of  use  to  some 
one.  And  all  the  earth  was  thickly  clothed  with  dense, 
rich,  reedy  grass,  six  to  ten  feet  high,  excellent  food  for 


38  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

horses,  cattle  or  sheep — and  every  mile  or  two,  tinkling 
streams,  or  deep- voiced  torrents,  furrowed  the  heart 
of  the  valleys.  Twelve  miles  away  there  was  a  port  with 
calling  steamers;  three  days'  sail  distant  lay  the  great, 
barren,  populous  land  of  New  Caledonia,  ready  to  take 
any  meat  that  fertile  Fiji  could  send.  Already,  nearer 
to  Ba,  more  than  one  man  had  braved  the  scorn  of  the 
oldest  inhabitant  by  raising  cattle  for  Fiji  itself,  and 
accumulating  a  comfortable  fortune.  Why  should  these 
great  wastes  of  grass  lie  idle?  The  native  owners,  I  knew, 
were  ready  to  let,  and  had  given  good  grazing  land  as  low 
as  a  shilling  an  acre;  there  was  no  clearing  required, 
and   no    difficulty    in   driving   stock   to   market.     Why 

should  not 

Gideon,  who  began  to  find  the  day  wearisome,  if  not 
tiring,  here  broke  in  on  the  current  of  my  reflections  by 
gathering  and  presenting  a  splendid  pink  orchid,  per- 
fumed with  a  scent  of  such  exquisite  novelty  and  delicacy 
that  I  could  not  make  up  my  mind  to  throw  it  away, 
even  when  it  got  in  the  way  of  my  whip  and  reins.  There 
were  large  numbers  of  these  about  the  edges  of  the  track. 
I  could  not,  however,  help  sneering  conceitedly,  as  the 
afternoon  wore  on,  at  the  want  of  accuracy  displayed  by 
most  travellers,  in  describing  a  tropical  forest.  The 
"blaze  of  flowers"  so  often  spoken  of  is  not  a  feature  of 
the  usual  tropical  bush.  Every  variety  of  green  is  there, 
in  choking,  strangling  luxuriance — exquisite  tree-ferns 
like  great,  green,  lace  parasols  blown  inside  out;  huge, 
handsome  trees  with  big,  varnished  leaves,  or  dangling 
pale-green  tassels  a  yard  long;  tall  shaddocks,  casting 
down  things  that  looked  like  oranges  ten  inches  in  diame- 
ter, and  were  only  a  bitter  delusion,  nearly  all  rind;  a 
rare  citron-tree  or  two,  with  rough-rinded  yellow  fruit; 
numbers    of   pretty    shrubs    and    bushes;  and — tangled 


ON  THE  TRAIL  39 

through  and  round  and  under  and  over  everything — 
Hanas  thick  and  thin,  brown  and  green,  running  hke  the 
cordage  of  some  gigantic  saihng-ship  from  airy  heights 
right  down  to  the  ground.  This  was  the  forest.  True, 
there  were  flowers — one  big  tree  was  starred  with  waxy- 
white,  perfumed  tuberoses;  a  handsome  bush  had  blos- 
soms like  a  pink-and-white  azalea;  another  bloomed 
like  a  meadow  buttercup ;  scarlet  salvia  lit  flames  in  dim 
green  comers,  and  an  exquisite  lilac-flowered  creeper 
tangled  itself  about  the  borders  of  the  track. 

But  all  these  were  swallowed  up,  as  it  were,  in  the 
overflowing  life  of  leaf  and  tree,  which  shut  out  so  much 
of  the  burning  sun  above  that  we  tramped  along  in  a 
cool  green  gloom.  Why  must  the  globe-trotter  belittle 
the  very  real  beauty  of  these  tropic  jungles  by  plastering 
it  over  with  his  own  sensational  falsehoods?  It  is  lovely 
enough,  in  all  conscience  without  the  non-existent 
"blaze  of  flowers." 

I  was  not  the  first  to  make  this  observation,  as  I 
found  when  I  returned  to  Suva,  and  read  the  fascinating 
book  of  South  American  travel  written  by  His  Excellency 
the  Governor  of  Fiji,  Sir  Everard  im  Thurn,  C.B., 
K.C.M.G.  I  fear  I  quoted  the  classical  curse  about  the 
people  who  capture  our  pet  ideas  before  we  secure  them 
ourselves,  when  I  found  my  remarks  anticipated  in  this 
manner.     However,  the  truth  is  a  truth;  let  it  stand. 

For  an  hour  or  two  the  track  was  now  so  steep  that 
I  had  to  walk,  letting  the  horse  scramble  after  me  as 
best  he  could.  Then,  when  the  sun  was  already  setting 
(for  I  had  delayed  a  long  time  on  the  way,  gathering 
flowers  and  photographing),  we  came  out  into  a  narrow 
gap  that  framed  in  a  minature  picture  of  half  the  island 
of  Viti  Levu,  or  so  it  seemed.  Here  was  the  summit 
of  the  3,000-foot  range,  and  somewhere  in  those  wild, 


40  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

barren  hills  below  we  must  find  shelter  for  the  night, 
since  there  was  now  no  chance  of  reaching  the  town  of 
Nambukuya  that  day. 

The  men  told  me  that  there  was  a  small  village — 
Nandrunga — within  a  couple  of  miles;  and  toward  this 
we  made,  scrambling  and  clattering  madly  down  the 
mountain  side,  to  cheat  the  growing  dark.  The  black, 
monstrous  peaks  gloomed  about  us,  sinister,  strange  and 
evil  in  the  gray-green  dusk;  the  ten-foot  reed-grass 
waved  its  melancholy  heads  above  us  like  funeral  plumes ; 
my  three  wild-eyed  Fijians  tramped  silently  in  the  rear. 
Among  these  very  peaks,  and  in  this  valley  that  we  were 
traversing,  countless  murders  and  ambushes  had  taken 
place,  and  cannibal  feasts  been  held,  in  the  stormy 
seventies.  I  was  going  to  sleep  in  a  native  village,  far 
from  any  white  people;  I  could  speak  hardly  anything 
of  the  language,  and  no  white  woman  had  ever  before 
ventured  through  these  regions  alone — indeed  (so  far  as 
I  know),  I  was  the  first  white  woman  who  had  ever 
travelled  through  these  mountains  under  any  circum- 
stances. All  this,  in  the  uncanny  dusk,  among  these 
wicked  hills,  fell  rather  coldly  upon  my  heart;  and  I 
resolved  to  sleep  with  my  revolver  under  my  head,  when 
rest  and  shelter  should  at  last  be  reached.  ...  It 
was  absurd,  dear  reader,  but  I  did  not  know  it  then. 


CHAPTER  III 

NATIVE  FOOD— A  FIJIAN  HOME 

Night  in  a  Fijian  House — A  Colossal  Bed — The  City  of  a 
Dream — A  Fascinating  Fijian — How  to  Drink  Yang- 
gona — Wanted,  a  Stanley — Where  are  the  Settlers? — 
The  Fairy  Fortress 

IN  THE  pitch  dark,  we  forded  a  river,  allowing  the 
horse  to  find  his  own  way  in  and  out,  and  at  last 
came  up  to  a  five-foot  high  palisade  of  thick  bamboos, 
surrounding  a  cluster  of  dim,  tall  objects  that  looked 
more  like  haystacks  than  anything  else.  My  men  low- 
ered the  bars  of  a  gate,  and  I  rode  into  the  village.  All 
was  dark  and  silent,  but  the  men  soon  routed  out  the 
inhabitants  of  the  biggest  house,  ran  and  looked  for  a 
light,  and  succeeded  in  finding  a  ship's  lantern.  This 
they  lit,  and  then  proceeded  unceremoniously  to  take 
possession  of  the  house,  lighting  a  fire  in  the  small  square 
fire-pit  near  the  door,  "shooing"  the  sleepers  out  from 
under  their  mats  on  the  floor,  and  depositing  my  various 
packages  in  convenient  places.  The  inhabitants  took 
all  this  quite  as  a  matter  of  course,  merely  asking  (or  so 
I  judged),  who  the  marvellous  apparition  might  be,  and 
then  squatting  down  outside  the  doorways  to  stare  their 
fill,  in  stolid  amazement. 

While  the  men  were  making  tea,  and  opening  a  tin 
of  meat,  I  looked  about  me  with  interest,  examing  my 
quarters.  The  house  was  about  thirty  feet  by  fifteen  or 
twenty.     There  was  only  one  room.     The  roof  was  very 

41 


42  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

high,  and  supported  by  a  central  post  cut  from  a  big 
bread-fruit  tree.  All  round  the  walls  were  pillars,  or, 
rather,  pilasters,  of  similar  wood,  about  four  feet  apart. 
The  rafters  were  of  bamboo,  the  ridge-pole  of  bread-fruit. 
Between  the  pillars  of  the  walls  was  fine  tapestry- work  of 
reeds,  which  were  laced  together  with  black  and  red 
sinnet  (cocoanut  fibre)  woven  in  pretty  patterns.  The 
floor  was  covered  with  a  neat  parquet  of  interlaced  slips 
of  bamboo,  hidden  here  and  there  by  the  sleeping-mats 
of  fine  plaited  rush  or  pandanus.  There  were  three  doors, 
one  in  the  gable  end,  and  one  at  each  side,  but  no  win- 
dows. I  had  been  careful  to  enter  by  the  side  door, 
being  warned  by  Gideon  not  on  any  account  to  go  through 
the  end  door,  which  was  for  him  and  other  kaisi  (com- 
moners), the  side  door  being  reserved  for  chiefs.  The 
outside  of  the  house,  as  I  saw  it  next  morning,  was  very 
neatly  covered  with  reed-work,  the  roof  being  deeply 
thatched  with  dried  grass.  Like  all  mountain  houses, 
it  stood  on  an  earthen  platform  about  four  feet  high, 
faced  with  stones,  and  surrounded  by  a  shallow  ditch. 
Cocoanut  logs,  slightly  notched,  formed  the  only  means 
of  ascent  to  the  doors.  Not  a  nail  was  used  in  the  whole 
building,  everything  being  laced  and  tied  together  with 
sinnet. 

Now  some  of  the  natives  entered  by  the  end  door, 
carrying  small  plaited  cocoanut-leaf  mats,  on  which  lay 
green  banana-leaf  platters  full  of  baked  yam.  These 
they  placed  at  my  feet,  bowing  low  as  they  did  so.  I 
was  glad  of  the  yams  ,  for  I  knew  by  experience  in  other 
islands  what  a  satisfying  food  these  crisp  white  tubers 
make,  and  the  mountain  air  had  made  us  all  hungry. 
The  natives  and  my  men  sat  at  a  distance,  watching  me 
eat,  till  I  had  done,  and  then  divided  the  remains  of  the 
yam,  also  of  my  tinned  meat  and  tea,  among  themselves. 


NATIVE  FOOD— A  FIJIAN  HOME  43 

Scrupulously  just  and  generous  they  were  over  these 
fragments  of  rare  luxury,  although  the  Fijian  loves 
tinned  meat  and  tea  as  his  own  soul.  One  man  Vv^ould 
take  a  bite  off  a  small  piece,  then  hand  it  on  to  the  next ; 
the  recipient  would  have  a  bite  in  his  turn,  and  imme- 
diately, with  watering  mouth,  give  the  delicious  morsel 
to  someone  else,  and  so  it  circulated  till  finished. 

It  was  nearly  time  for  bed  now,  so  my  men  put  up 
my  mosquito-net  on  the  bedplace,  and  told  the  Nandrun- 
gians  that  only  the  w^omen  might  remain  in  the  house 
for  the  night.  This  evidently  impressed  the  Fijians 
as  the  funniest  idea  they  had  ever  struck;  the  men 
cackled  with  laughter  at  the  notion  of  anyone's  object- 
ing to  sleep  in  a  miscellaneous  crowd  of  both  sexes,  while 
the  women  crowed  with  triumph  at  having  the  wonderful 
marama  (lady)  all  to  themselves.  It  is  not  often  that 
a  Fijian  woman  gets  a  chance  of  making  herself  prom- 
inent or  getting  the  best  of  anything;  she  is  simply 
a  drudge  and  a  slave,  as  a  rule,  eating  the  leavings  of 
the  men,  doing  all  the  hardest  work,  and  pushed  into 
a  corner  at  once,  if  such  a  rarity  as  a  white  visitor  passes 
through,  because  it  is  not  modest  for  her  to  talk  to,  or 
even  look  at,  strange  men,  also  because  she  is  a  dog, 
a  slave,  and  does  not  count.  Now,  the  tables  were 
turned,  and  the  utter  delight  with  which  the  women 
cleared  the  house,  and  ran  about  waiting  on  me  after 
the  men  were  gone,  was  something  worth  seeing.  They 
screamed  when  I  began  to  comb  my  hair,  which  was 
certainly  unlike  their  own  short  stiff  brush,  and  remarked, 
in  a  flattering  tone,  that  it  resembled  the  tail  of  a  horse! 
They  went  into  hysterics  of  joy  over  all  my  clothes, 
uttered  strange  savage  "tck-tcks"  of  wonder  at  the 
riding-gloves  I  hung  up  to  dry,  and  told  each  other  that 
the  marama  wore  "tarowis"  on  her  hands,  a  word  that 


44  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

I  could  easily  translate  without  a  dictionary.  One  young 
woman,  shoebrush-haired,  wild-eyed,  and  long  of  tooth, 
caressed  my  arm  in  a  passion  of  delight,  even  going  so 
far  as  to  set  her  teeth  gently  in  the  flesh,  and  exclaim 
longingly,  "Vinaka  na  kakana!"  (What  good  food!) 
I  knew  that  she  was  too  young  to  have  been  a  cannibal, 
and  that  her  exclamation  was  only  a  compliment — some- 
what left-handed,  it  is  true — to  my  British  skin;  but 
the  remark  was  interesting  as  an  unconscious  outbreak 
of  heredity.  The  young  lady's  parents,  a  fine  old  couple 
residing  in  the  next  house,  had,  without  any  doubt  at 
all,  enjoyed  many  a  hearty  meal  of  human  limbs,  in  the 
good  old  days,  when  the  forearm  was  always  considered 
the  choicest  and  tenderest  bit. 

A  Fijian  bed  is  a  curious  resting-place,  but  not  un- 
comfortable to  a  tired  traveller.  It  is  an  immense 
platform,  about  three  feet  high,  occupying  the  whole 
end  of  the  house,  and  covered  with  six  or  eight  layers 
of  clean,  cream-coloured  mats,  edged  with  tufts  of  red 
and  blue  wool.  The  foundation  is  made  by  screwing 
a  big  log  across  the  end  of  the  room,  and  filling  up  the 
enclosed  space  with  close-packed  grass  and  fern.  Pillows, 
made  of  a  short  section  of  bamboo  trunk,  lie  about  the 
platform;  the  Fijians  place  them  under  their  necks, 
Japanese  fashion,  and  protect  their  wonderful  heads  of 
hair  from  disturbance.  Fortunately  for  comfort,  I  had 
my  own  travelling-cushion. 

The  women  lay  on  the  floor,  and  I  slept  well  on  the 
big  bedplace,  although  I  felt  very  much  as  if  I  had 
strayed  into  the  Great  Bed  of  Ware,  and  was  in  danger 
of  losing  myself,  and  although  rats,  cats,  bat  and  scut- 
itering  crawlies  suggestive  of  centipedes  created  a  sound 
of  revelry  by  night  all  over  the  excellent  ballroom  floor 
furnished  by  the  dais,  until  six  o'clock  thrust  gray  fingers 


TINY  TAMBALE 


THE  NDALO  BEDS 


YANGGONA  BUSHES 


NATIVE  FOOD—A  FIJIAN  HOME  45 

under  the  narrow  doors,  and  waked  me  up.  The  women, 
still  exulting  in  their  triumph,  escorted  me  down  to  the 
river,  and  showed  me  a  deep,  cool  hole  to  bathe  in. 
While  I  enjoyed  a  dip,  they  sat  on  the  bank  and  slapped 
their  hands  on  the  rocks,  beating  time  to  a  strange,  hum- 
ming, monotonous  chorus  in  which  they  sang  of  my 
many  wonders  and  virtues.  These  impromptu  addresses 
in  verse  are  very  common  in  Fiji,  and  men  and  women 
alike  are  most  skilful  in  improvisation.  It  was  rather 
a  novelty  to  take  one's  morning  tub  to  the  sound  of  a 
h3'mn  eulogising  one's  clothes,  remote  ancestors,  rich 
possessions  of  tinned  meats  and  biscuits,  and  gorgeous 
Turkey-cotton  swimming-dress;  but  a  tour  through 
the  Fijis  is  one  continual  succession  of  humorous  novel- 
ties, and  one  soon  gets  used  to  them. 

The  little  village  looked  indescribably  quaint  and 
pretty  in  the  slanting  rays  of  the  early  sun.  It  num- 
bered only  about  a  dozen  houses,  clustered  on  their  tidy 
little  green,  like  toys  on  a  table.  The  curious  stands 
on  which  most  Fijian  mountain  houses  are  perched 
added  to  the  toy-like  appearance,  and  the  immense 
beehive  roofs  of  the  older  buildings  stood  up  among 
the  delicate  young  palms  with  the  odd,  almost  sinister 
effect  that  is  a  feature  of  all  these  lovely  hill  fortresses. 
A  strange  mixture  of  opposing  qualities,  truly. 

Everything  was  odd  and  new — the  scanty  sulus  of 
the  men  and  women,  worn  without  upper  clothing, 
for  the  most  part ;  the  long  bamboos  that  stood  in  every 
house,  to  hold  water,  all  the  joints  except  the  bottom 
one  being  skilfully  pierced,  so  as  to  create  a  very  useful 
water- vessel ;  the  big,  frizzled  head-dresses  of  the  men, 
so  much  larger  than  the  neat,  small  coiffures  popular 
in  the  coast  towns  below.  The  Fijian  of  to-day  seldom 
or  never  dresses  his  hair  in  the  enormous  mop  of  ancient 


46  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

times,  for  the  early  missionaries  insisted  that  all  their 
converts  should  show  their  abandonment  of  heathen 
ways  by  cutting  their  locks.  Still,  the  hair  of  these 
islanders  is  so  extraordinarily  thick,  stiff  and  w^ir}^  that 
it  can  hardly  be  dressed  after  any  European  fashion,  and 
many  heads  may  be  seen  in  the  mountains  vrhich,  un- 
cultivated and  undressed,  save  for  the  popular  bleaching 
with  lime  to  a  yellow  tint,  display  a  ragged  halo  standing 
loosely  out  for  at  least  a  foot  round  the  face. 

The  Fijian  who  is  careful  of  his  hair — and  most  are 
— does  not  allow  it  to  run  wild  like  this.  It  is  his  chief 
object  in  life,  first,  to  train  his  stiff  locks  to  stand  on  end, 
and  secondly,  to  cut  and  trim  them  into  the  neatest 
possible  busby,  some  six  inches  high.  At  night,  and 
when  en  deshabille,  he  wears  a  compressing  band,  as 
religiously  as  an  East  End  coster-girl  wears  her  curling- 
pins.  When  the  hair  is  long  and  erect  enough,  he  takes 
a  looking-glass  and  scissors,  gives  the  latter  to  a  friend, 
and  holds  the  former  himself,  critically  observing  the 
friend  as  he  clips  and  shapes  the  dense  bush  with  won- 
derful skill.  There  are  fashions  in  Fijian  hair-dressing; 
at  present,  the  favourite  mode  is  to  shape  the  hair  off 
the  forehead  in  a  deep,  slightly  overhanging  bevel, 
curved  sharply  outward  at  the  temples  so  as  to  make  a 
bush  at  each  side  of  the  head.  The  rest  of  the  hair  is 
rounded  off  so  neatly  that  it  looks  like  a  block  of  black 
or  yellow  wood,  several  inches  deep.  Cocoanut  oil, 
scented  with  flowers,  is  freely  used,  and  the  men  con- 
stantly decorate  their  heads  by  sticking  scarlet  or  white 
flowers  into  them,  exactly  as  one  sticks  pins  into  a  pin- 
cushion. I  may  here  observe  that  Nasoni,  anxious  to 
make  an  impression  on  the  hearts  of  the  country  maidens, 
turned  up  for  the  start  that  morning  with  his  mahogany 
bush  of  hair  adorned  with  two  kinds  of  red  flowers,  three 


NATIVE  FOOD— A  FIJIAN  HOME  47 

kinds  of  white,  a  bunch  of  green-and-white  ribbon-grass, 
and  an  aigrette  of  fern !  It  rained  a  Httle  after  we  started, 
but  Nasoni  protected  his  elegant  coiffure  with  a  giant 
taro-leaf,  some  four  feet  by  three,  held  up  unibrella-wise 
by  the  stalk,  and  did  not  get  a  drop. 

The  rain  cleared  off  soon,  and  we  covered  some 
sixteen  miles  by  afternoon,  journeying  for  the  most  part 
along  the  crests  of  narrow  ridges,  surrounded  by  a  sea 
of  the  most  magnificent  hill  scenery  in  all  Fiji.  Never 
before  had  I  witnessed  the  solid  lap  of  Mother  Earth 
tossed  up  into  such  a  strange  tumult  as  this.  The  worn- 
out  term  "rolling  mountains"  exactly  describes  the 
general  appearance  of  the  Fiji  highlands,  for  they  seem 
ever  about  to  break  in  colossal  waves  upon  the  valleys 
and  rivers  below.  And  the  colouring,  the  marvellous 
blues — blue  as  hyacinths  under  a  summer  sky,  blue  as 
sea-water  lying  six  fathoms  deep  over  a  white  coral  reef, 
blue  as  a  carven  cup  of  sapphire  filled  with  the  violet 
light  of  sunset — what  pen,  what  picture,  can  hope  to 
reproduce  them? 

For  many  miles  there  was  no  sign  of  human  life,  and 
then,  looking  down  from  a  windy  crest  of  upland  we  saw 
a  tiny  village,  Tambal^,  nestling  far  below  in  a  deep 
wooded  cleft  of  the  hills.  We  passed  this  by,  but  after 
came  upon  an  occasional  small  patch  of  yam  or  taro  or 
banana;  and  soon  the  dark  red  variegated  crotons  and 
dracaenas,  planted  along  the  track,  showed  us  that  we 
were  nearing  Nambukuya,  the  principal  "town"  of  the 
district,  where  the  Mbuli,  or  local  chief,  had  his  dwelling. 

I  wish  I  could  describe  Nambukuya,  as  I  saw  it  on 
that  golden  afternoon,  sleeping  among  the  slanting 
shadows  of  its  rich  orange-groves,  in  the  round  green 
cup  of  a  highland  valley.  On  three  sides  of  the  little 
town   the   hills   rose   up   like   fortress   walls   of   purple 


48  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

porphyry,  but  on  the  fourth,  the  lip  of  the  cup  was 
broken,  and  through  the  break  one  saw,  dim  and  dehcate 
and  shadowy  pencilled,  the  far-off  pale  blue  plains  of  half 
a  province  lying  below.  .  .  .  Surely  I  had  seen  Nam- 
bukuya  before,  but  not  on  this  mortal  earth.  It  was  in 
the  strange  country  guarded  by  the  "ivory  gate  of 
dreams"  that  I  had  wandered  down  those  shaded,  scented 
pathways  and  entered  this  little  city  of  perfect  rest  and 
silence,  soundless  save  for  the  cool  murmuring  of  the 
stream  that  leaped  right  through  the  town  in  twenty 
little  crystal  falls,  shut  in  from  all  the  world,  save  for 
that  one  far-away  glimmer  of  distant  lands  below.  Every 
one  who  has  ever  been  young,  and  dreamed  over  a  book  of 
poetry  on  some  endless  summer  afternoon,  knows  of  just 
such  a  spot.  Mrs.  Browning's  "Lost  Garden,"  Tenny- 
son's "Island  Valley  of  Avilion" — 

"Where  falls  not  hail  nor  rain  nor  any  snow, 
Nor  ever  wind  blows  loudly,  but  it  lies 
Deep-meadowed,  happy,  fair  with  orchard  lawns 
And  bowery  hollows     .      .      .     " 

— ^the  sweet,  sleepy  "Garden  of  Indolence,"  the  solitary 
mountain  valleys  of  "Endymion" — all  these  I  had 
wandered  through  in  the  days  when  birthdays  were  far 
apart,  and  the  dream-world  endlessly  wide;  but  I  never 
thought  to  find  myself,  years  after,  in  the  prosaic  noon- 
day of  life,  riding  a  mortal  horse  through  the  actual 
Fijian  highlands,  right  into  the  visionary  city  of  my 
childish  fancies. 

All  the  pretty  toy  houses  dotted  about  the  neat  little 
lawns  were  quiet  when  I  jumped  my  horse  over  the  bars, 
and  entered  the  bamboo  fence;  for  the  people  had  gone 
away  to  dig  in  the  yam-fields,  and  cut  bananas.  Just 
on  my  left  rose,  tier  after  tier,  a  strange  erection  of 


NATIVE  FOOD— A  FIJIAN  HOME  49 

terraces,  decorated  with  handsome,  large-leaved  water- 
plants  standing  in  an  inch  or  so  of  clear  water.  From 
terrace  to  terrace,  a  tiny  stream  slipped  downward,  losing 
itself  at  last  in  the  river  below.  Nasoni  and  Joni  told  me 
that  this  really  beautiful  piece  of  landscape  gardening 
was  a  ndalo  bed,  where  the  ndalo,  one  of  Fiji's  most  im- 
portant roots,  was  grown  in  the  slowly  running  water 
that  suited  it  best.  Seeing  that  I  was  about  to  photo- 
graph it,  they  hastily  got  into  the  middle,  and  struck 
becoming  attitudes.  (I  may  here  remark  that  Nasoni, 
who  was  the  biggest  and  very  much  the  ugliest  of  my 
men,  was  evidently  the  beau  of  the  party,  from  the  Fijian 
point  of  view,  for  when  we  left  the  village  a  day  or  two 
later,  Gideon  and  Joni  were  allowed  to  go  without  remark, 
while  a  plump  young  woman,  in  lilac  sulu  and  an  arsenic- 
green  pirn,  or  tunic,  followed  Nasoni  to  the  farthest  out- 
skirts of  the  fence,  sobbing  unrestrainedly,  and  hanging 
on  his  apparently  unconscious  arm,  without  a  shadow  of 
mauvaise  honte.  I  am  bound  to  say  that  Nasoni  acted 
exactly  as  if  she  were  not  there,  and  walked  away,  when 
she  finally  loosened  her  clasp,  without  a  single  look  or 
word.  Like  beauty-men  of  other  nations,  he  evidently 
set  a  fair  value  on  himself.) 

Our  entry  into  the  village  roused  out  one  or  two  lazy 
sleepers,  who  hurried  forward  in  great  excitement,  for 
word  had  gone  on  of  our  coming,  and  we  were  expected. 
The  native  mission-teacher's  wife  was  sent  for,  and  in- 
formed us  that  the  Mbuli,  or  district  chief,  was  away, 
so  I  must  come  to  her  house.  She  proudly  showed  me 
in;  and,  indeed,  the  house  was  an  excuse  for  pride.  Big 
as  a  ballroom,  and  cool  as  a  cave,  in  all  that  burning  heat, 
it  had  an  immense  floor-space  of  the  cleanest  possible  mats 
gaily  edged  with  tufts  of  scarlet,  orange,  green,  pink, 
blue,  violet,  black  and  white  wools  (of  European  make, 


50  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

these  last).  The  great  dim  roof  rose  far  overhead,  un- 
lighted;  but  the  three  doors  that  pierced  the  windowless 
walls  gave  each  a  different  view  of  exquisite  beauty, 
spread  out  below  the  lofty  platform  of  green  lawn  on 
which  the  house  was  built.  The  walls  were  three  feet 
thick,  covered  inside  with  elegant  reed  and  sinnet-work, 
and  outside  with  a  deep  thatch  of  grass  and  leaves  that 
made  the  house  look  like  an  immense  bird's  nest.  Now, 
and  many  times  after,  I  was  struck  with  the  common 
sense  shown  in  the  design  of  these  Fijian  houses,  and  the 
excellent  way  in  which  they  shut  out  the  heat.  I  have 
never  once  felt  hot  in  a  Fijian  house,  no  matter  what  the 
temperature  outside  might  be,  although  European  houses 
are  often  oppressively  warm  in  the  hot  season. 

Great  was  the  excitement  when  the  villagers  came 
back,  and  found  that  the  long-expected  traveller  was 
really  there.  A  bush  town  in  Australia  visited  by  an 
unexpected  circus  may  furnish  a  feeble  parallel;  or  a 
remote  English  village,  upon  which  a  black  princess,  with 
her  suite,  should  suddenly  descend.  The  material  fur- 
nished for  chatter  and  discussion  was,  of  course,  in- 
valuable. The  two  great  ends  of  a  Fijian's  existence  are 
eating  and  talking;  he  is  always  ready  for  either  in 
unlimited  quantities.  Five  pounds  weight  of  solid  yam 
is  the  minimum  allowance  for  a  single  man's  meal,  among 
all  employers  of  Fijian  labour ;  and  the  abnormal  capacity 
for  eating  which  this  suggests  is  fully  balanced  by  the 
appetite  for  talk  possessed  by  these  mighty  trenchermen. 
Wherever  I  spent  a  night,  the  greater  part  of  the  village 
sat  up  to  talk  till  morning.  In  the  nearest  houses  I  could 
hear  the  faint  buzz  going  on  for  hour  after  hour,  as  I  slept 
and  ^voke,  and  slept  again,  and  I  knew  that  in  every  town 
the  same  eager  catechising  of  my  men  was  going  on,  and 
the  same  endless  discussion  of  my  hair,  teeth,  eyes,  nose. 


NATIVE  FOOD— A  FIJIAN  HOME  51 

blouses,  ties,  belts,  pins,  skirts,  shoes,  shoelaces,  prob- 
lematical "underneaths,"  manners,  temper,  religion,  age, 
history,  financial  position,  relations,  intentions,  posses- 
sions and  characteristics  of  every  kind,  down  to  the 
buckles  on  my  side-saddle,  and  the  things  I  had  been 
heard  to  say  when  I  stepped  on  a  nest  of  wood-centipedes. 
But  the  folk  in  Nambukuya  were  considerate  and  polite, 
in  spite  of  their  burning  curiosity.  They  did  not  shove 
or  push,  and  when  I  lay  down  on  the  mats  to  rest,  they 
softly  closed  the  doors  and  slipped  away,  one  by  one, 
leaving  me  with  nothing  but  the  murmur  of  the  high  hill- 
winds  about  the  house-top  for  company,  and  gentle 
twilight   to   encourage   sleep. 

Later  on,  came  a  feast — baked  yam,  and  the  great 
blue  roots  of  the  ndalo,  served  with  the  inevitable  mur- 
dered fowl  that  is  always  given  to  a  guest  in  Fiji.  They 
don't  truss  fowls  in  the  Fiji  Islands,  but  serve  them  up 
with  wildly  divergent  legs  and  wings,  ghastly  screwed 
neck  still  decorated  by  the  protesting  head,  beak  wide 
open  and  blank  boiled  eyes  astare.  After  I  had  fed,  the 
Turanga  ni  Koro  (head-man  of  the  town) ,  came  in  with 
a  formal  gift  of  uncooked  yams  and  a  great  yanggona- 
root,  which  he  laid  at  my  feet  with  an  elaborate  speech. 
Yanggona  (the  "kava"  of  the  Eastern  Pacific)  is  the 
universal  drink  of  Fiji.  It  is  the  hard,  woody  root  of  a 
handsome  bush  (the  Piper  metkysticum) ,  which  grows 
freely  in  the  mountains.  The  Fijians  prepare  the  root 
by  grating  or  pounding,  pour  water  over  the  pounded 
mass,  and  strain  it  through  a  wisp  of  bark  fibre.  The 
resulting  drink  looks  like  muddy  water,  and  tastes  much 
the  same,  with  a  flavour  of  pepper  and  salt  added.  One 
soon  gets  to  like  it,  however;  and,  drunk  in  moderation, 
it  is  extremely  refreshing  and  thirst-quenching.  The 
Fijians  do  not  drink  moderately,  I  regret  to  say;  they 


52  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

often  sit  up  all  night  over  their  yanggona,  drinking  until 
they  are  stupefied  and  sleepy,  and  quite  unable  to  walk — 
for  yanggona,  taken  in  excess,  paralyses  the  legs  for  an 
hour  or  two,  even  though  the  head  may  be  quite  clear. 
The  British  Government  has  forbidden  the  ancient 
method  of  preparing  the  root,  in  which  it  was  chewed  and 
spat  out  into  the  bowl,  instead  of  being  pounded.  For 
all  that,  yanggona  is  very  frequently  chewed  at  the 
present  day,  when  no  white  people  are  about. 

I  understood  native  customs  sufficiently  to  give  back 
the  root  to  the  donor,  with  many  thanks,  and  request 
that  it  should  be  prepared  for  the  people.  We  had, 
therefore,  a  single  brewing  from  a  portion  of  the  root, 
little  ceremony  being  made  over  the  drinking,  although 
the  people  clapped  their  hands  loudly  at  me  when  the 
first  cup  was  brought  over  to  me.  This  is  a  form  of 
greeting  used  for  chiefs.  The  Turangani  Koro,  a  rather 
unimportant  personage,  of  no  lofty  descent,  was  the  only 
dignitary  present,  so  the  affair  was  necessarily  informal. 

In  almost  all  the  Pacific  islands,  kava  (yanggona) 
is  the  favourite  drink  of  the  natives.  Its  connection 
with  early  religious  ceremonies  is  obvious,  since  it  is 
generally  prepared  with  considerable  solemnity,  and 
according  to  a  prescribed  ritual.  Women  and  youths 
are  not  usually  allowed  to  drink  it. 

Having  finished  the  first  bowl  (which  was  prepared 
in  a  tin  basin,  as  the  mission-teacher's  house  dare  not 
own  a  real  yanggona  bowl),  most  of  the  natives  with- 
drew to  another  house  with  the  root  and  the  bark  strainer ; 
and  I  am  of  opinion  that  they  kept  it  up  that  night  until 
every  bit  of  the  great  root,  which  weighed  at  least  a 
couple  of  stone,  was  finished.  At  all  events,  my  men 
were  sleepy  next  morning,  and  informed  me,  with  a  satis- 
fied air,  that  Nambukuya  was  "plenty  good  place." 


NATIVE  FOOD— A  FIJIAN  HOME  53 

I  stayed  in  the  little  village  over  Sunday,  and  a  very 
interesting  Sunday  it  was.  At  daybreak,  the  "lali,"  or 
canoe-shaped  wooden  drum,  was  beaten,  and  the  natives 
held  prayers  in  their  own  houses,  first  praying,  and  then 
singing  Fijian  hymns — loud,  determined,  sonorous  chants, 
that  sounded  much  more  like  war-songs  than  pious 
petitions.  Three  times  during  the  day  they  assembled  in 
the  church  (a  large  native  house)  for  more  praying  and 
singing,  and  again  at  night  they  held  prayers  in  their  own 
houses.  No  work  was  done,  except  cooking  yams  and 
killing  a  pig  for  a  feast  in  honour  of  my  arrival. 

The  women  dressed  themselves  gaily  in  green,  pink 
and  lilac  tunics  and  sulus,  the  men  all  turned  out  in 
spotless  white  sulus  and  shirts,  with  black  ties.  It  was 
evident  that  the  religious  exercises  of  the  day  were  thor- 
oughly to  their  tastes,  and  not  at  all  too  long.  Fijians 
cannot  be  bored,  and  one  of  their  favourite  occupations, 
at  all  times,  is  sitting  down  on  the  mats  in  rows  to  chant 
in  chorus,  for  many  hours  at  a  stretch,  about  anything 
and  everything  that  may  come  into  their  heads.  As  for 
an  unlucky  white  person,  entrapped  into  a  Fijian  church, 
he  must  simply  endure  until  it  is  over,  as  best  he  may. 
He  will  not  want  to  go  twice. 

In  the  afternoon,  everybody  lay  about  on  the  mats, 
both  sexes  rolling  and  smoking  endless  cigarettes  made 
of  Fijian  tobacco  wrapped  up  in  a  slip  of  banana-leaf, 
and  chatting  rather  lazily  and  sleepily.  There  was  a 
smell  of  roasting  food  in  the  air;  the  shadows  were 
lengthening,  the  cool  of  evening  coming  on.  What  thing 
that  lay  beyond  that  encircling  wall  of  wide  blue  hills 
could  the  heart  of  man  desire?  Was  not  this  the  Valley 
of  Peace,  where  no  one  wanted  for  anything,  no  one 
quarrelled  or  nagged,  no  cold  or  hunger  ever  came,  nor 
fear   for   to-morrow,   nor   regret   for   yesterday?     How 


54  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

easily  might  one  forget  all  the  world  outside,  and  dream 
away  the  last  years  of  a  stormy  life,  cast  up  in  this  quiet 
bay  of  nothingness  and  peace,  out  of  the  wild  waters  of 
the  white  man's  fierce  existence? 

But  I  was  strong  and  young,  and  the  white  man's 
world  still  called  for  me.  And  next  morning,  when  the 
sun  was  just  lifting  above  the  hills,  and  the  great,  green 
banana  leaves  were  crystalled  all  over  with  dew,  and  the 
plumes  of  the  waving  guinea-grass  were  frosted  glass  and 
silver,  I  mounted  and  rode  away  for  ever.  .  .  .  Yet, 
perhaps,  in  the  gray  years  to  come,  I  may  find  the  gate 
among  the  orange-trees  once  more ;  may  come  back  when 
the  heart  is  old,  and  the  world  has  wearied,  to  rest  here 
in  the  arms  of  the  purple  hills,  until  the  end. 

One  must  stop  somewhere  in  the  matter  of  descrip- 
tions ;  I  cannot  make  a  pen-picture  of  the  day's  ride  that 
followed.  Enough  to  say  that  it  was  very  lovely,  and 
that  my  mind  was  almost  wearied  with  beauty  before 
that  thirty-mile  march  was  ended.  There  were  other 
things  to  think  of  besides  the  scenery,  however.  The 
track  was  mostly  red  clay,  and  slippery  as  greased  glass. 
My  good  Australian  horse,  Tan^wa,  knew  every  inch  of 
the  road,  and  civilly  declined  to  carry  me  over  any  spot 
he  knew  he  could  negotiate  better  without  my  weight. 
Once,  at  the  top  of  a  long  down-slope  that  looked  safe 
enough,  I  urged  him  on,  after  he  had  stopped.  He 
grunted,  and  went  forward  under  protest,  picking  his 
way  carefully,  for  the  path  was  but  a  foot  or  two  wide, 
and  there  was  a  big  unprotected  drop  into  a  mountain 
gorge  on  the  off  side.  Suddenly,  he  struck  a  slide  of  red 
clay,  treacherously  hidden  by  leaves.  Away  went  his 
hind  legs,  and,  with  a  louder  grunt  than  ever,  he  sat  down 
on  the  slope,  like  a  horse  in  a  circus,  his  forelegs  squarely 
planted  in  front,  his  hind  hoofs  tucked  under  the  girths. 


NATIVE  FOOD— A  FIJIAN  HOME  55 

Most  horses  would  have  snorted  and  struggled,  and 
probably  rolled  over  the  precipice,  but  Tan^wa,  as  cool 
as  a  green  cocoanut  (there  are  no  cucumbers  indigenous 
to  Fiji),  merely  turned  round  his  head  to  look  at  me  as 
I  sat  on  his  uncomfortably  shaped  back,  saying  as  plainly 
as  a  horse  could  say  it,  "Who  was  right?  I  suppose  you 
will  get  off  nowf  I  did  get  off,  feeling  very  apologetic, 
and  the  good  Australian  rose  deliberately  to  his  four  feet, 
and  pursued  his  way  downward,  quite  unmoved. 

By  this  time,  word  of  our  coming  had  gone  round  the 
whole  countryside,  and  at  every  village  we  came  to  the 
same  ceremony  took  place.  I  would  jump  Tanewa  over 
the  pig-bars,  and  cross  the  green,  desirous  only  of  getting 
away  (for  the  path  invariably  led  right  through  the 
villages).  The  Turanga  ni  Koro,  in  a  clean  white  shirt 
and  sulu,  would  rush  out  at  the  sound  of  hoofs,  and  waylay 
my  men.  Then  Gideon,  all  one  grin,  would  approach  me, 
and  begin: 

"Missi  Ngrims'aw!" 

"Yes?" 

"Turanga  ni  Koro,  he  say  toa  (fowl)  an'  yam  in  the 
pire,  pish  he  cook.     He  like  you  stop,  ki-ki  (eat)." 

Then  the  Turanga  ni  Koro  would  proudly  lead  the 
way  to  his  house,  instal  me  on  a  new  mat,  specially 
unrolled,  and  enjoy  a  good  gossip  with  my  men.  Enter 
the  murdered  fowl,  and  the  inevitable  yam;  perhaps  a 
steaming  leaf-full  of  plump  river-prawns  as  well.  I 
would  cut  a  small  piece  off  the  fowl,  and  eat  it  for  man- 
ners' sake,  while  my  men,  after  I  had  done,  would  joyfully 
rend  the  remains  limb  from  limb,  and  devour  every  bit,  not 
to  speak  of  a  trifle  of  five  or  six  pounds  of  yam  apiece. 
Then  I  would  make  a  small  present,  for  courtesy's  sake, 
and  call  a  fresh  start.  After  four  feasts  (counting  the 
morning  meal  at  Nambukuya),  I  began  to  reflect  that 


56  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

neither  Stanley,  Burton,  nor  Speke  would  have  allowed  his 
men  to  make  themselves  sick  with  over-eating  (for  even  a 
Fijian  can  eat  himself  sick  on  animal  food,  which  he  does 
not  often  get),  and  I  resolved  to  put  a  stop  to  it.  I 
wished  very  much,  however,  that  Stanley  had  been  around 
to  tell  me  how  to  do  it.  I  had  an  idea  that  he  generally 
hanged  his  followers  when  they  disobeyed  him,  but  I  had 
never  hanged  any  one,  or  even  seen  it  done,  which  was 
certainly  a  difficulty  in  the  way.  There  is  nothing  like 
travel  in  rough  countries  for  teaching  you  your  own 
deficiencies,  as  I  had  already  learned.  I  could  write 
Latin  verses,  but  I  couldn't  make  bread — I  could  em- 
broider on  silk  and  canvas,  but  I  didn't  know  how  to 
grease  my  boots  properly — and  here  was  another  simple 
thing,  just  the  hanging  of  a  Fijian,  that  I  could  not  do, 
either.  I  felt  it  was  like  something  in  "Sandford  and 
Merton" — something  with  a  moral  to  it — but  could  not 
quite  remember  what. 

Under  the  circumstances,  the  best  thing  to  do  seemed 
simply  to  decline  to  stop  at  any  more  villages,  and  I  did, 
though  the  disappointed  faces  of  the  villagers  I  left 
behind  me  almost  shook  my  resolution.  The  plan 
seemed  to  be  working  all  right,  and  I  was  getting  rapidly 
on  toward  the  Singatoka  Valley,  when,  a  mile  or  so  after 
we  had  crossed  a  river,  where  a  party  of  natives  were 
cooking  yams  on  the  bank,  I  missed  Joni  and  Nasoni. 

"Where  are  those  men?"  I  demanded  sternly. 

Gideon,  with  an  ingratiating  smile,  replied: 

"I  think  they  stopping  along  water — ^get  some-sings 
to  eat!" 

This  was  the  last  straw.  I  gave  Gideon  ni}^  opinion 
of  himself,  in  what  the  popular  novelists  call  "fine, 
nervous  English  "  (it  must  have  been,  because  it  obviously 
made  him  nervous  as  to  what  might  be  coming  next),  and 


NATIVE  FOOD— A  FIJIAN  HOME  57 

told  him  that  it  was  entirely  his  fault  for  letting  the  men 
stay ;  also  that  I  would  not  give  them  any  tobacco  money 
for  the  next  Indian  store,  or  any  more  stray  handfuls  of 
sugar  to  eat  on  the  road ;  and  that  I  was  going  to  ride  on 
now,  and  let  them  follow  as  they  liked.  The  country 
was  growing  more  level,  so  I  put  Tan^wa  to  a  canter,  and 
kept  him  at  it  for  a  good  while.  As  a  result,  the  three 
men  were  very  tired  and  hot  when  they  caught  me  up 
later  in  the  day,  and  looked  rather  penitent.  I  was  glad, 
on  the  whole,  that  I  had  not  hanged  them,  especially 
when  I  heard  Nasoni  remark,  with  a  chuckle,  to  Joni 
that  they  would  get  plenty  of  roast  pig  at  Natuatuathoko, 
where  we  were  to  stop  the  night — for  it  seemed  to  me  that 
Nature  herself  would  probably  attend  to  the  matter  of 
their  extermination  before  very  long. 

All  day,  as  I  rode  along,  the  same  thought  kept 
coming  up  in  my  mind.  Why  should  all  these  miles 
and  miles  of  fine  highland  country  lie  empty,  untouched, 
uninhabited?  The  Fijians  did  not  need  them,  and  were 
ready  enough  to  let,  or  even  to  sell,  under  the  new  laws 
which  provide  for  the  improvident  native  by  giving  the 
capital  into  the  permanent  charge  of  the  British  Govern- 
ment, and  only  paying  out  the  yearly  interest.  The 
climate  was  splendidly  healthy;  the  occasional  forests 
only  covered  a  small  part  of  the  country,  and  were  val- 
uable in  themselves  for  their  timber;  there  was  abun- 
dance of  water,  and  the  bridle-tracks  were  everywhere 
good  enough  for  driving  stock  down  to  the  coast.  It  had 
been  proved  that  horses  and  cattle  did  excellently  all 
over  the  country,  and  sheep  in  the  hills.  The  sales  of 
Australian  and  New  Zealand  tinned  beef  and  mutton 
in  the  country  were  enormous,  in  spite  of  a  heavy  duty. 
Anyone  who  started  a  cannery  in  the  islands,  so  as  to 
avoid  the  duty  and  undersell  the  imported  article,  would 


58  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

make  a  fortune.  Further,  there  was  a  good  export  trade 
in  beef  only  half  developed.  And  apart  from  this  alto- 
gether, coffee,  sisal  hemp,  jute,  and  many  other  valuable 
commercial  products,  were  known  to  do  excellently  in  the 
hill  country.  Where  were  the  settlers?  and  why  did 
they  not  come? 

I  have  never,  as  yet,  been  able  to  find  a  satisfactory 
reply  to  the  latter  question,  except  in  the  aggressive 
attitude  adopted  by  the  oldest  inhabitant  to  all  new 
blood  and  new-fangled  ways,  and,  possibly,  in  the  small 
attention  paid  to  such  matters  by  the  Fijian  Government, 
until  very  recently.  Even  at  the  time  of  writing,  it  is 
not  at  all  easy  to  obtain  reliable  information  about  the 
exact  amount  of  waste  lands  available  for  cultivation.  I 
can  only  tell  the  would-be  settler  that  there  is  certainly 
plenty  of  land  to  be  had,  and  that  details  can  best  be 
obtained  by  going  inland  to  look  matters  up  in  person. 
I  hear  that  the  Government  is  having  a  survey  made, 
but  it  will  probably  be  a  long  time  in  the  making,  as  a 
government,  like  an  alligator,  requires  considerable 
space  and  time  to  turn  around  in.  In  the  meantime,  a 
few  of  the  rough  facts  which  I  obtained  about  this  part 
of  Fiji,  in  the  early  part  of  1905,  from  local  residents  of 
long  standing  may  be  of  interest. 

On  the  Ba  River,  about  100,000  acres  of  native  land, 
600  feet  above  sea-level,  is  available.  It  is  extremely 
suitable  for  stock-raising.  Rents  probably  not  more 
than  a  shilling  an  acre. 

On  the  Tavua  River,  about  1,000  acres  of  similar  land. 

Between  Ba  and  Nandrunga,  a  stretch  of  land  six  or 
seven  miles  across,  some  hundreds  of  feet  above  sea-level, 
suitable  for  coffee,  or  for  stock-raising.  Quite  unin- 
habited.    Plenty  of  water. 

Between    Nandrunga,    Nambukuya    and    Natuatua- 


NATIVE  FOOD— A  FIJIAN  HOME  59 

thoko  (over  forty  miles)  the  entire  country,  with  one 
exception  of  a  few  small  yam-patches  about  the  villages, 
is  unoccupied,  and  the  greater  part  available  as  above 
mentioned. 

Yanggona,  which  sells  for  15.  6d.  a  pound  in  Fiji,  and 
is  used  in  the  pharmacopoea  of  almost  every  country  in 
the  world,  grows  wild  among  these  hills,  in  the  woods. 
Citrons  and  lemons  of  fine  quality  also  grow  wild. 

I  would  like  to  add  here,  that  the  present  state  of 
Fiji — just  beginning  to  open  up  for  settlement,  with  lands 
as  yet  unsurveyed  in  great  part,  and  much  of  the  interior 
only  roughly  known — is  just  the  period,  in  any  country's 
history,  when  settlers  light  upon  the  best  chances,  and  get 
on  most  rapidly.  After  everything  has  become  smooth 
and  easy,  and  the  value  of  all  the  lands  is  accurately 
known,  and  the  products  that  suit  the  country  and  the 
markets  best  have  all  been  tried  and  exploited,  the  cream 
is  off  the  milk — skimmed  up  by  those  who  were  enter- 
prising enough  to  take  the  chances,  and  try  to  be  the  first 
in  the  field.  Fiji  is  no  place,  as  yet,  for  the  young  man 
who  never  had  an  enemy  in  his  life,  but,  somehow,  isn't 
wanted  at  home;  who  has  a  moderate  capital,  and  a 
moderate  amount  of  character,  and  can  get  along  very 
nicely  if  some  one  tells  him  just  where  to  go  and  what 
to  do,  and  how  to  do  it;  who  is  excellent  on  a  tram-line 
of  habit  and  custom,  but  as  incapable  of  making  a  fresh 
path  for  himself  as  the  tram-car  itself  might  be,  off  the 
line.  Men  of  another  stamp,  who  will  help  the  colony 
to  find  itself,  are  what  Fiji  wants,  and  there  can  be  no 
manner  of  doubt  that  it  will  have  them,  as  soon  as  the 
public  can  be  got  to  realise  that  the  country  is  one  of  our 
most  important  Crown  Colonies,  that  Fijians  are  neither 
dangerous  nor  cannibal,  and  that  the  climate  is  one  of 
the  finest  and  healthiest  in  the  world. 


6o  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

.  .  .  But,  after  all,  who  could  be  practical  and 
statistical  within  sight  of  Natuatuathoko? 

We  were  nearing  it  now,  this  mountain  fortress  town 
in  the  very  heart  of  the  highlands.  The  Singatoka  River 
lay  on  our  right,  the  hills  were  behind  and  before,  but  we 
were  travelling  now  over  a  stretch  of  rich,  level,  meadow 
country,  where  the  fine,  soft  grass  rose  waist-deep  on 
either  side,  and  the  road  itself  was  a  wide,  turfy  avenue, 
bordered  here  and  there  by  splendid  orange  and  lemon- 
trees  in  full  fruit.  By-and-by,  the  track  took  a  sharp 
turn  upward.  We  were  leaving  the  river  valley,  to  ascend 
the  strange  little  hill  on  which  the  town  stands,  as  upon 
a  tower.  Now  the  grassy  road  became  steep  and  stony, 
and  the  orange-trees  almost  closed  in  overhead.  And  on 
each  side,  as  I  rode  along,  bushy  crotons  and  dracaenas, 
scarlet  and  black  and  yellow,  made  a  quaintly  ornamen- 
tal hedge,  while  tall  guavas  shot  above  them,  and  dan- 
gled great  golden  eggs,  bursting  with  the  richness  of  the 
luscious  pink  pulp  within,  right  over  my  lap.  I  accepted 
the  generous  invitation  freely;  and  in  the  rear  I  heard 
a  crunching  and  sucking  that  told  me  the  ever-hungry 
Joni  and  Nasoni  were  "at  it  again."  Well  they  might 
be,  for  nowhere  in  Fiji  are  oranges  and  guavas  like  these 
to  be  found. 

Higher  up,  and  still  higher!  The  path  was  neatly 
edged  with  stones,  and  partly  paved,  but  the  horse 
scrambled  and  clattered  a  good  deal,  for  the  way  was 
steep.  Groves  of  exquisite  bamboo,  orange  and  lemon 
shut  in  the  track  so  that  one  could  see  little  ahead. 
But  suddenly  the  way  opened  out,  and  before  me  stood 
an  immense  Fijian  house,  seventy  or  eighty  feet  high, 
the  great  roof  crowded  with  men  who  were  rethatching 
it,  aided  by  a  scaffolding  of  bamboo.  They  raised  a  yell 
that  made  even  the  sedate  Tan6wa  start  and  shy,  and 


NATIVE  FOOD— A  FIJIAN  HOME  6i 

shook  their  knives  in  the  blue  air,  high  up  under  the  sky. 
Then  they  began  to  scramble  down  the  house  like  cats  or 
flies,  and  made  a  rush  for  me  and  my  men.     Even  so, 
thirty  years  ago,  had  the  fathers  of  these  men — some  of 
the  elders  themselves,  indeed — rushed  to  greet  visitors 
to  Natuatuathoko,  with  brandished  weapons  and  terrify- 
ing cries.     But  in  the  old  days,  there  was  war-paint  on 
their  faces,  the  weapons  meant  strict  business,  and  the 
cooking-ovens,  in  the  village  above,  were  hot  to  receive 
the  luckless  visitor,  not  to  entertain  him.     To-day,  the 
men  of  this  mountain  town,  once  the  home  of  every 
devilish  cruelty,  were  running  and  shouting,  and  swinging 
their  cutting-knives  about,  simply  to  express  their  uncon- 
trollable delight  at  my  arrival.     A  white  woman  up  here! 
a  white  woman  alone!  what  a  tremendous  event,  and 
what  a  source  of  mad  excitement !  Why,  there  was  not  a 
white  face  for  fifty  miles  on  either  side  of  Natuatuathoko, 
and  the  magistrate  himself  only  came  round  to  hold  his 
court,  in  the  big  house  they  had  been  thatching,  once  in 
every  six  months! 

I  feel  inclined  to  say  that  "a  hundred  willing  hands 
were  extended  to  lead  my  horse  into  the  town,  and  help 
me  to  dismount,"  because  it  is  the  proper,  signed-and- 
sealed  sort  of  phrase  to  use  on  an  occasion  of  this  kind, 
and  the  Natuatuathokians  certainly  ought  to  have  done 
it.  But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  they  did  not,  being  far  too 
much  occupied  in  staring  at  me  to  think  of  anything  of 
the  kind.  When  I  dismounted  outside  the  bamboo 
stockade,  and  scrambled  over  the  stile  into  the  town, 
they  rushed  to  look  at  my  side-saddle,  crying  out, 
"Sombo,  sombo!"  (Wonderful!)  Then  they  stared  at 
my  habit-skirt,  which  I  was  holding  up  as  I  walked,  and 
expressed  their  admiration  of  its  length  by  loud  "tck- 
tcks."     They  told  my  men  that  I  must  be  rich,  to  have 


62  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

such  a  long  sulu  as  that,  and  that  I  was  certainly  an 
"  Andi"  (high  chief tainess) ,  because  of  my  height,  which 
was  equal  to  their  own.  (In  Fiji,  the  chief  families  are 
all  tall,  and  a  tall  woman,  in  particular,  is  almost  sure  to- 
be  of  the  blood  royal  of  Bau,  Thakombau's  birthplace.) 
Following  at  a  respectful  distance,  they  accompanied  me 
into  the  town;  my  men,  as  usual,  enjoying  the  glory  of 
the  arrival  exceedingly,  and  competing  with  each  other 
in  the  size  and  splendour  of  the  lies  they  told  about  me. 
I  was  the  sister  of  the  Governor  of  Fiji  (a  fact  that  would 
have  greatly  surprised  His  Excellency  if  he  had  heard  it) ; 
I  was  also  a  most  intimate  friend  of  King  Edward  VI I. , 
who  had  specially  despatched  me  from  England  to  tell 
him  what  Fiji  was  like.  Moreover,  my  father  had  so 
many  cattle  that  England  was  too  small  to  contain  them, 
and  I  was  therefore  asking  questions,  wherever  I  went, 
about  the  amount  of  vacant  grazing-land  to  be  had  in  Fiji 
for  these  superfluous  "bulimacow."  (Bulimacow  is  the 
Fijian  word  for  beef,  and  for  cattle,  singular  or  plural. 
A  milch  cow  is  a  bulimacow;  also  a  bull.  The  origin 
is  obvious:  confusion  caused  by  asking  the  name  of 
the  strange  creatures  when  they  were  first  brought 
to  Fiji.) 

I  did  not  pay  much  attention  to  these  pleasing  fictions, 
however,  for  I  was  now  within  the  town,  and  Nambukuya 
at  once  fell  from  its  pride  of  place  in  my  heart.  It  was 
not  the  most  beautiful  village  in  the  world;  that  honour 
was  transferred  to  Natuatuathoko,  henceforth  and  for 
ever.     .     .     . 

.  .  .  Little  enchanted  town,  how  you  linger  in  my 
memory,  though  I  spent  only  a  night  and  a  morning  in 
your  wonderful  citadell  How  often  I  think  of  you,  as  I 
first  saw  you  from  the  grassy  orange  avenue  below, 
perched  high  upon    your   green   pinnacle   like   a   fairy 


HOUSE  OF  THE  TURAXGA  LILEWA 


"""%-%. 


NATIVE  FOOD— A  FIJIAN  HOME  63 

town  in  an  old-world  story-book!  The  tale  seemed 
to  tell  itself,  as  Tan6wa  plodded  steadily  along  in  the 
yellow  sunset. 

" .  .  .  And  they  travelled  all  day  long,  through 
the  black  woods  where  the  goblins  live,  and  over  the 
mountains  of  No-man's-land.  And  at  evening  they  came 
to  a  beautiful  river,  that  was  deep  blue,  and  the  birds 
sang  in  the  trees  beside  it.  Then  they  saw  the  road  that 
led  to  the  magic  city,  stretching  right  before  them,  all 
green  and  soft,  and  the  most  lovely  fruits  grew  beside  it, 
and  dropped  on  the  path,  with  no  one  to  pick  them  up. 
And  the  magic  city  stood  up  in  the  clouds,  and  there  was 
a  wall  all  round  it,  but  if  one  stood  at  the  gate,  and 
pronounced  the  words,  'Open,  Sesame!'  it  opened 
immediately.     ... 

And  upon  what  did  the  magic  gate  open? 

Upon  a  small  grassy  lawn,  surrounded  by  a  ring  of 
about  a  dozen  quaint  little  native  houses ;  upon  a  tangle 
of  heavy-fruited  mandarin  orange-trees,  lemon- trees, 
guavas,  scarlet-blossomed  hibiscus,  and  graceful  giant 
bamboo,  framing  blue  distances  in  the  most  beautiful  of 
natural  arches  and  windows;  upon  an  airy  circle  of 
clouds  and  shadow-dappled  hills,  and  far-away  faint-green 
meadows,  ringing  round  the  little  fortress  town  with 
what  seemed  a  vision  of  "  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth, 
and  the  glory  of  them."  Very  far  below,  the  blue  Singa- 
toka  wound  like  a  ribbon  about  the  base  of  the  hill, 
murmuring  sleepily  and  ceaselessly  all  day  and  all  night 
long,  in  the  stillness  of  the  mountain  air.  They  are 
strangely  silent,  these  hill  towns,  even  in  the  early  morn- 
ing and  evening  hours,  when  all  the  people  are  at  home. 
The  lightly  treading  bare  feet  of  the  mountaineers  make 
not  so  much  noise  upon  the  grass  as  a  ripe  orange  falling 
from  the  tree;  children  do  not  shout  at  play;  there  is 


64  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

no  calling  out  to  teams,  or  dragging  of  heavy  boats,  or 
sound  of  wheel  or  hoof,  for  countless  miles  beyond  the 
mountain  wall — only  the  high  hill  winds  in  the  whispering 
bamboos,  and  the  long  murmur  of  the  river. 

The  house  to  which  I  was  conducted  remains  in  my 
memory  as  the  most  delightful  I  saw  in  Fiji.  It  be- 
longed to  a  chief  of  some  importance — the  Turanga 
Lilewa.  It  stood  upon  a  mound  at  least  twenty  feet  high, 
approached  by  a  long  flight  of  steep  stone  steps,  and  from 
every  one  of  its  three  doors  one  looked  down,  in  the  early 
morning,  upon  a  rolling  sea  of  pearl-coloured  mountain 
mists,  islanded  by  sharp  violet  crags  and  summits.  With 
the  springing  up  of  the  clear  white  sun,  these  opalescent 
mists  broke  and  shredded  away  to  garlands  of  lightest 
thistledown,  hanging  about  the  dark-blue  shoulders  of 
the  hills ;  the  river  turned  to  golden  glass,  the  yellow  balls 
of  the  oranges  began  to  burn  like  fire,  and  sudden  day 
broke  upon  the  silent  town.  Yet,  perhaps,  it  was  more 
lovely  still  in  the  moonlight,  the  warm,  wonderful  tropic 
moonlight  that  painted  all  the  widespread  distances  in 
delicate  silver  and  misty  blue,  and  frosted  the  dew- wet 
domes  of  the  strange  peaky  houses  with  elfin  touches  of 
sparkling  crystal.  ...  If  Nambukuya  was  a  place 
for  the  old  and  weary,  here  was  a  place  for  the  young  and 
happy:  for  Romeo  and  Juliet,  for  Sidney  and  Geraldine, 
for  wonderful  story  princesses,  eloped  from  gloomy 
palaces  to  the  wilderness,  and  a  cottage,  and  love.  .  .  . 
And  there,  in  the  middle  of  the  village,  was  the  cottage 
all  ready — a  cottage  ornee,  fit  for  a  princess  who  had  not 
yet  learned  to  do  without  her  high-heeled  satin  shoes  and 
her  necessaire — quaint  beyond  description,  with  a  Euro- 
pean veranda,  and  an  enormous  high-pitched  Fijian  roof, 
and  odd  little  rooms  partitioned  off  from  one  another  by 
cool  walls  of  fitted  reeds.     It  had  been  built  for  a  former 


A  FEAST  UY    THK  W  AY 


HRIXC.IXC;  UP  THE  YAMS 


NATIVE  FOOD— A  FIJIAN  HOME  65 

white  resident — the  officer  in  command  of  the  native 
garrison  that  used  to  occupy  the  town — and  was  still  in 
good  repair,  being  occasionally  used  by  the  district 
magistrate  on  his  travels.  An  odd,  delightful  spot;  a 
hothouse  for  strange  fancies,  and  fantastic  fairy  imagin- 
ings born  of  long  days'  solitary  travel  and  long  hours' 
moonlight  thought.     .     .     . 

But,  really,  it  is  time  to  get  away,  for  there  is  a  big 
distance  to  cover  to-day,  and  the  men  have  finished  their 
feast  of  yams  and  pig  and  fat  river-crayfish,  and  the 
bridle  is  being  forced  upon  Tan^wa's  mildly  protesting 
head  once  more.  So  it  is  "boot  and  saddle"  again,  and 
ride  away,  the  richer  by  an  exquisite  picture  of  beauty, 
and  one  or  two  oddly  comic  experiences.  Among  these 
must  be  included  the  special  honour  paid  me  by  the  wife 
of  the  Turanga  Lil^wa,  who  proudly  brought  out  a 
chair  and  table  (evidently  home-made),  at  which  I  was 
requested  to  take  my  dinner.  Chairs  and  tables,  in  the 
mountains,  are  unheard-of  luxuries,  and  the  Turanga 
Lil6wa  is  very  proud  of  possessing  these  objects  of  art; 
so  much  so,  that  I  had  not  the  heart  to  tell  him  that  he 
had  got  the  relative  heights  hopelessly  mixed — the  chair 
being  a  giant  of  its  species,  while  the  table  was  not  eigh- 
teen inches  high.  I  ate  my  dinner  on  it,  rather  than 
hurt  his  feelings,  but  I  felt  inexpressibly  ludicrous,  and 
remarkably   like   a   chicken   drinking. 


CHAPTER  IV 

HOSPITALITY 

"Plenty  Shark" — Introduction  to  a  MhiU-mhili — Down 
the  Singatoka  River — A  Meke-meke  at  Mavua — 
Thalassa 

AFTER  Natuatuathoko,  the  journey  became  inextri- 
cably involved  with  the  Singatoka  River.  All 
day  I  was  concerned  with  that  stream,  fording  it  more 
than  once,  climbing  up  and  down  the  hills  that  bordered 
its  banks,  and  at  last  cantering  easily  for  many  a  mile 
through  the  beautiful  river  fiats  of  the  middle  reaches, 
the  richest  land  in  Fiji.  There  is  almost  nothing  that 
this  land  will  not  grow,  and  grow  excellently.  Sugar 
does  well  on  it;  vanilla  would  flourish  in  all  the  little 
valleys;  bananas  grow  splendidly  here  and  there,  where 
an  enterprising  Chinaman  or  two  has  taken  up  land; 
cocoanuts  bear  heavily;  cattle,  if  one  may  judge  by  the 
specimens  feeding  here  and  there  along  the  banks,  grow 
as  beefy  and  big,  as  silken  of  coat  and  bright  of  eye,  as 
any  prize  beast  bred  in  English  meadows.  It  may  be 
said  here,  once  for  all,  of  the  Singatoka  River  country, 
that  the  land  is  unsurpassable,  that  many  thousands  of 
acres  are  to  be  had,  and  that  the  rents  asked  by  the  natives 
are  very  low — only  a  very  few  shillings  per  acre  in  many 
cases.  It  is  popularly  said  in  Suva,  by  people  who  have 
never  left  the  towns,  that  the  bar  at  the  mouth  of  the  river 
is  an  insuperable  obstacle  to  the  development  of  the 
country.     This   however,  is  not  the  case.     The  bar  does 

67 


68  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

prevent  steamers  from  coming  up,  but  the  Chinese  settlers 
seem  to  experience  no  difficulty  in  getting  their  fruit 
disposed  of,  by  means  of  lighters,  which  convey  it  down 
to  the  sea,  to  meet  the  calling  steamers.  Nor  is  the  bar 
necessarily  a  permanent  obstacle,  since  something  less 
than  two  thousand  pounds  will  remove  it,  as  soon  as  the 
Fiji  Government  sees  its  way  to  spend  the  money.  The 
climate  of  the  Singatoka  is  excellent;  clear,  bright  and 
healthy,  and  not  excessively  wet.  There  are  no  fevers 
or  diseases  of  any  kind,  not  even  malaria. 

Villages  were  very  few  to-day,  so  the  men  did  not 
secure  more  than  one  or  two  feasts  before  we  reached 
the  stopping-place  for  the  night.  We  halted  after  a 
day's  travel  of  only  about  fifteen  miles,  since  heavy  rain 
that  fell  in  the  middle  of  the  day  had  delayed  us  an 
hour  or  two.  The  sun  had  just  slipped  behind  the  hill 
when  we  reached  the  lower  Singatoka — a  stream  very 
different  from  the  shallow,  brawling  waters  we  had  left 
earlier  in  the  day.  This  was  wide  and  strong,  dark  agate 
green  in  colour,  and  exceedingly  deep.  The  night  was 
coming  very  rapidly;  there  was  not  a  soul  in  sight,  and 
no  boat  visible.  My  men  tied  up  Tandwa  in  the  long 
grass  (since  he  was  to  be  sent  back  next  morning  from 
this  side  of  the  river) ,  and  then  sat  down  and  began  roll- 
ing cigarettes.  Whether  we  were  going  to  get  across  the 
river  before  dark — ^whether  we  were  going  to  arrive  any- 
where to-night — what  we  were  going  to  do  anyhow — did 
not  trouble  them  in  the  least.  That  was  "the  white 
man's  burden"  (or,  in  this  case,  the  white  woman's) — 
their  burdens  were  my  box  and  provision-bag,  nothing 
more. 

"Is  there  no  boat?"   I  asked  Gideon. 

"No,  sir,"  replied  Gideon,  with  the  utmost  cheerful- 
ness.    (The  Fijian  generally  addresses  a  lady  as  "  sir.") 


HOSPITALITY  69 

"  No  ford  anywhere? — no  place  vv^e  cross?" 

"  No,  sir," 

"Then  we'll  have  to  swim,  and  pretty  quick  about 
it.     It's  getting  dark." 

"All  right,  sir,"  lighting  a  cigarette  and  rising  to  his 
feet. 

I  had  dressed  myself  in  expectation  of  some  such 
contingency,  and  had  only  to  remove  my  riding-skirt 
and  shoes.  This  I  was  proceeding  to  do,  when  Gideon 
remarked  conversationally,  with  a  brilliant  smile: 

"Plenty  s'ark  here." 

I  stopped  at  the  laces  of  the  second  shoe,  and  asked 
anxiously : 

"What  shark?  All  same  R6war   shark   stop    here?" 

"Yes,  sir.     All  same.     Plentee." 

This  gave  me  an  unpleasant  sensation  down  the  spine, 
for  I  had  heard  many  things  of  the  R6wa  River  sharks — 
how  fierce  they  were,  how  they  would  swim  up  the  river 
for  fully  thirty  miles,  how  they  bit  arms  and  legs  off  care- 
less bathers,  as  the  records  of  the  local  hospital  testified. 
And  now  I  was  informed  that  the  Singatoka  was  infested 
in  the  same  way. 

Stanley  wouldn't  have  minded  those  sharks,  I  felt 
certain.  The  men  obviously  did  not.  But  I  did,  and  I 
hesitated. 

"Sa  lakomai  mbili-mbili"  ("There  is  a  'mbili-mbili' 
coming"),  remarked  Nasoni  at  this  stage,  pointing  out 
across  the  water. 

I  looked  about,  half  expecting  to  see  some  strange 
river-beast  or  fish  rising  from  the  glassy  tide ;  but  a  much 
more  welcome  sight  met  my  eyes — a  small  bamboo  raft, 
coming  across  from  the  other  side,  paddled  by  a  native. 
In  a  few  minutes  it  was  alongside — a  mere  bundle  of 
sticks  with  a  depression  in  the  middle,  and  a  sort  of 


70  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

rough  bow  formed  by  tying  the  small  ends  of  the  bam- 
boos tightly  together.  Such  as  it  was,  however,  I  wel- 
comed it  gladly,  for  Lemba-Lemba,  an  important  town, 
was  on  the  other  side,  and  I  had  got  to  cross  to-night,  or 
drown. 

Saddle  and  luggage  were  piled  on  the  mbili-mbili,  and 
I  perched  myself  as  safely  as  possible  on  one  side. 

In  the  gathering  dusk  I  could  just  see  white  sulus 
flitting  about  upon  the  further  shore ;  it  was  evident  that 
we  were  expected.  When  the  raft  grounded,  a  big,  jet- 
eyed,  jet-bearded  native,  with  a  fine,  dignified  presence, 
a  neck  and  chest  like  a  bull,  and  a  voice  to  match,  came 
forward  and  welcomed  me  as  one  having  authority.  I 
did  not  need  to  be  told  that  this  was  the  Buli,  or  high  chief 
of  the  district,  for  the  deference  paid  to  him  by  my  men 
at  once  informed  me  of  the  fact. 

Good  Buli  of  Lemba-Lemba !  what  a  pleasant  memory 
you  left  in  the  mind  of  the  wandering  marama,  long  after 
she  had  sailed  away  from  your  hospitable  town.  Here, 
at  last,  was  someone  with  a  head — kindly,  hospitable  and 
jolly,  quick  to  give  orders,  ready  to  stir  about — a  relief 
indeed  from  the  amiable  dependence  of  the  men.  The 
ascent  from  the  river  to  the  village  was  almost  unscalable 
that  night,  being  nearly  perpendicular,  and  so  slippery 
with  recently  soaked  red  clay  that  it  resembled  a  huge 
toboggan  slide  much  more  than  a  path.  Even  the  bare 
feet  and  strong  prehensile  toes  of  the  Fijians  slipped  on 
it,  while  I  simply  could  not  keep  my  footing  at  all. 
But  the  Buli  roared  like  his  nainesake  animal,  and  out 
of  nowhere  appeared  two  men  armed  with  spades.  These 
scrambled  in  front  of  me,  cutting  steps  as  they  climbed, 
while  another  man,  and  the  Buli  himself,  held  my  elbows, 
and  hoisted  vigorously.  In  this  fashion,  all  in  the  dark, 
I  came  up  to  Lemba-Lemba,  and  was  ushered  into  the 


mm 

MORXIXG,  LEMBA-LEMBA 


H  TATHER  A\l)  1  \ 


HOSPITALITY  71 

Bull's  own  house,  where  supper  was  already  waiting,  hot 
from  the  cooking-pits — ndalo,  yams,  crayfish,  cocoanuts, 
fowls,  and  a  brace  of  plump  sucking-pigs,  cut  up  into 
joints.  All  this  was  laid  out  on  a  real  table,  with  two 
real  chairs,  on  one  of  which  the  good  Buli  took  his  seat, 
a  perfect  firework  of  eyes  and  teeth  and  glowing  good- 
nature, while  I  took  the  other.  He  would  not  eat  till  I 
had  finished,  however,  and  all  the  time,  according  to 
custom,  my  hungry  men  squatted  quietly  on  the  floor, 
waiting  for  their  turn.  Many  a  time,  both  then  and 
afterward,  I  longed  to  give  the  patient,  tired  creatures 
their  food,  as  soon  as  I  was  helped  myself,  instead  of 
keeping  them  waiting  until  my  tea  was  made  and  my 
meal  finished;  but  I  knew  that  this  was  undesirable, 
and  would  probably  make  them  unmanageable  later  on. 
One  hard  lesson  that  the  white  man  or  woman  must 
learn  with  regard  to  Fijian  servants  is  not  to  be  too  kind. 
They  may  be  considered  in  private,  but  one  must  never 
openly  show  them  that  their  comforts  are  a  matter  of 
thought ;  and  the  respect  that  they  freely  offer  must  not 
be  broken  down  by  any  lessening  of  dignity  on  the  white 
person's  part.  Like  all  savage  races,  they  count  kindness 
as  weakness,  and  although  I  have  not,  personally,  found 
them  incapable  of  gratitude,  I  have  found  that  an  act  of 
indulgence,  such  as  a  gift  of  tea  or  tobacco,  or  a  little 
skilled  care  for  some  small  injury,  must  needs  be  balanced 
by  a  certain  manufactured  hardness  of  demeanour,  if  it 
is  not  to  form  a  ground  for  future  laziness  and  carelessness. 
This  question  of  gratitude  is  a  vexed  one.  Most  of 
the  other  writers  say  that  the  Fijians  possess  no  such 
feeling ;  and  certainly,  what  they  may  have  is  of  a  quality 
different  from  ours.  I  have  heard  of  a  kindly  old  lady 
(a  white  settler  in  Fiji),  who  tended  a  young  Fijian 
through  a  bad  attack  of  dysentery,  and  succeeded,  with 


72  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

much  trouble,  in  saving  his  Ufe.  After  he  was  well,  he 
came  up  to  her  house,  planted  himself  on  her  veranda, 
and  demanded  food  and  lodging.  When  she  refused, 
he  was  extremely  indignant,  and  asked  her,  in  an  injured 
tone:  "  Did  you  not  save  my  life? "  " Certainly  I  did," 
said  the  lady.  "Then,  of  course,  it  belongs  to  you,  and 
you  must  provide  for  me!"  declared  the  Fijian.  His 
benefactress,  rather  taken  aback,  tried  to  decline  the 
responsibility  as  politely  as  might  be,  but  the  Fijian  stuck 
to  his  point,  and,  only  for  the  intervention  of  a  Govern- 
ment official,  who  was  so  tickled  with  the  originality  of 
the  affair  that  he  carried  the  man  off  to  Suva  for  a  ser- 
vant, the  kindly  lady  would  probably  have  suffered  a 
good   deal   of   annoyance. 

This  is  one  side.  There  is,  however,  another.  I 
have  known  one  of  my  men,  to  whom  I  had  given  an  odd 
sixpence  for  tobacco,  collect  all  my  shoes,  and  take  them 
off  to  clean  immediately;  and,  on  the  journey  through 
the  mountains,  my  interpreter  more  than  once  refused 
tea  for  himself  and  the  others,  on  the  grounds  that  I  gave 
them  "plenty  ki-ki"  (food),  and  that  I  should  not  have 
tea  enough  for  myself  if  they  shared  it.  To  see  them 
afterward,  when  we  had  reached  an  Indian  store,  boiling 
their  tea  furiously  over  the  fire  till  it  was  black  and  thick 
as  treacle,  and  then  drinking  it,  sweetened  to  syrup, 
with  an  expression  of  the  most  heavenly  ecstasy  on  each 
black  face,  was  to  understand  that  they  had,  previously, 
made  a  real  sacrifice. 

The  Buli  shared  my  tea,  on  this  occasion,  with  much 
delight.  Gideon  prepared  a  specially  powerful  cup,  well 
stewed,  for  him.  To  present  it,  he  squatted  down  on  the 
ground  before  the  Buli,  lowered  his  head,  and  held  up  the 
cup,  humbly  saying:  "Na  ti,  Turanga"  ("The  tea, 
O  chief!")     The    Fijian    "kaisi,"   or  commoner,    pays 


HOSPITALITY  73 

immense  respect  to  chiefs,  and  never  dares  to  address 
them  unless  squatting  humbly  on  the  ground  at  their 
feet.     Only  an  equal  addresses  a  chief  while  standing. 

After  everyone  had  fed,  and  was  satisfied,  the  Buli 
put  my  men  through  a  searching  catechism  as  to  myself 
and  my  doings,  enjoying  the  good  gossip  as  heartily  as 
any  old  maid  in  an  English  chimney  comer,  and  roaring 
with  laughter  over  some  of  their  replies.  It  was  then 
explained  to  him  that  I  should  want  the  whole  house  to 
myself  that  night,  with  his  wife  to  keep  me  company. 
The  idea  of  being  turned  out  of  his  chiefly  mansion  in 
favour  of  that  unimportant  item,  his  wife,  struck  the 
Buli  as  the  greatest  joke  of  the  season,  and  his  fat  sides 
fairly  shook  with  laughter,  as  he  bade  me  good-night, 
and  waddled  down  the  cocoanut  log  out  into  the  dark. 
I  fancy  he  ordered  Gideon  to  sit  up  in  the  neighbouring 
house  and  entertain  him  with  conversation  all  night 
long  (Fiji  fashion) ,  for  the  low  buzz  of  talk,  punctuated  by 
an  occasional  bellow  of  enjoyment,  was  distinctly  audible 
until  daybreak. 

In  the  morning,  the  Buli  offered  me  a  pressing  invita- 
tion to  stay  a  day  or  two  longer;  but  time  was  not 
unlimited,  so  I  rather  reluctantly  left  the  pretty  town 
and  its  hospitable  chief,  giving  two  or  three  shillings  in 
exchange  for  my  lodging,  and,  as  usual,  finding  that 
my  small  "tip"  was  considered  extremely  liberal.  Now 
came  a  difficulty.  Tan6wa  had  been  sent  back,  according 
to  previous  arrangement,  and  behold,  the  boat  we  had 
expected  to  meet  us  was  not  there.  It  had  gone  down 
the  river  because  of  the  "  Bosi  Vakaturanga, "  I  was  told. 
As  the  Bosi,  or  Council  of  Chiefs,  was  being  held  in  Suva, 
a  hundred  miles  away,  it  was  difficult  to  see  the  connection, 
but  the  fact  remained.  The  mbili-mbili  must  carry  us 
down  to  Koronisingana ;  there  was  nothing  else  to  be  had. 


74  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

So,  on  to  this  bundle  of  sticks  my  baggage,  my  saddle, 
myself  and  followers  were  packed,  and  we  began  our 
slow  drifting  down  the  river.  A  proper  mbili-mbili  is 
not  too  rough  a  craft ;  it  has  a  sort  of  fence  in  the  centre, 
enclosing  a  comfortable  seat,  and  is  made  with  some  con- 
sideration for  the  matter  of  keeping  its  cargo  dry.  But 
our  conveyance  boasted  only  a  sort  of  rise  or  hillock  on 
each  side  of  the  central  hollow;  and,  as  I  sat  with  my 
feet  in  the  latter,  I  could  feel  the  water  squirting  up  my 
ankles  every  time  the  men  made  a  feeble  stroke  with  the 
awkward  bamboo  pole.  It  had  to  be  used  as  an  oar,  for 
the  river — which  I  could  see  right  under  my  feet  between 
the  bamboos,  green,  sunlit  and  clear — was  much  too 
deep  about  here  to  allow  the  raft  to  be  punted  along. 

There  was  every  opportunity  for  observing  the  coun- 
try as  we  drifted  by ;  and  a  very  lovely  country  it  was — 
rich  fiats  along  the  river  shores,  thick  with  the  finest 
grass,  wasting  away  untouched,  year  after  year;  pictur- 
esque cliffs  sheltering  the  stream;  long,  hot,  damp  gullies 
here  and  there,  just  the  places  for  vanilla-growing; 
and  always  the  murmuring  green  river,  winding  endlessly 
ahead,  and  the  far,  soft  hills  of  hyacinth  blue.  So  we 
drifted  on,  into  the  country  that  I  did  not  know;  and 
under  the  open  sky,  in  the  warm,  fresh,  river  wind,  life 
seemed   very  good. 

.  .  .  We  had  had  a  feast  of  fowl  and  pig  in  the 
morning,  and  a  lunch  of  tinned  meat  and  biscuit  about 
midday.  But  that  did  not  trouble  the  men  at  all  when 
we  got  to  Koronisingana  in  the  early  afternoon,  and 
found  that  the  local  chief  had  slain  the  fatted  hen  once 
again.  I  will  swear  upon  my  honour  and  conscience 
that  they  had  eaten  enough  for  ten  already  that  day, 
before  they  sat  down  to  two  fowls  among  the  three, 
and  cleared  them  away,  with  ten  or  twelve  pounds  of 


MV   I'ULLoWKKS  (.)N    THK  MlULl-MlilLl 


GETTING  READY  FOR  THE  MEKE-MEKE 


HOSPITALITY  75 

yam.  When  they  had  finished  everything  within  sight, 
they  got  up,  said  it  was  a  good  town,  and  that  the  Singa- 
toka  people  would  all  go  to  heaven;  and  then  went  off 
to  bale  out  the  boat  I  had  hired,  and  transfer  my  goods 
from  the  mbili-mbili.  I  wandered  about,  looking  at 
the  pretty  village,  which  was  quite  unlike  the  mountain 
towns — much  more  straggling;  not  in  any  w^ay  fortified, 
and  less  quaint  in  its  architecture,  since  it  wanted  the 
high  mounds  on  which  the  mountain  houses  stood. 
But  the  beauty  of  its  trees  and  shrubs  quite  made  up 
for  any  lack  of  architectural  interest.  Every  house 
stood  in  a  grove  of  many-coloured  shrubs,  and  white 
and  yellow  flowers,  with  splendid  tall  cocoanuts  and  big, 
shady  mangoes  overtopping  all.  Paw-paws  loaded  with 
their  delicious  little  tree-melons,  stood  by  almost  every 
door,  and  there  were  oranges  there,  too,  as  in  every 
Fijian  town. 

The  Buli's  house  had  a  European  toilet-glass;  and 
my  men  took  full  advantage  of  this,  setting  it  on  the 
floor,  and  squatting  before  it  in  turn,  to  oil,  stick  up, 
and  decorate  their  hair.  No  London  lady  with  a  mass 
of  artificially  produced  waves  and  curls  is  more  anxious 
about  her  hair  than  a  Fijian.  In  rainy  weather,  a 
smoked  banana-leaf  is  often  used  as  a  waterproof  cover 
for  it,  closely  tied  over  the  head.  Those  who  do  not 
dye  the  hair  yellow  with  coral  lime,  or  red  with  annatto, 
generally  touch  it  up  with  soot  to  ensure  its  being  of  a 
dense  blackness.  It  is,  therefore,  not  so  completely 
weather-proof  as  one  might  imagine,  and  is  only  kept 
smart  by  continual  vigilance. 

The  boat  leaked  badly,  and  the  men  had  to  bale  in 
turn  all  afternoon.  This  did  not  trouble  them,  however, 
since  all  native  boats  leak,  and  the  baler  is  generally  as 
active  as  the  oar.     We  had  neither  oars  nor  paddles, 


76  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

the  only  means  of  progression  being  a  bamboo  pole. 
This  was  slow,  so  when  we  came  to  the  shallows,  Joni 
would  get  out,  and  run,  knee-deep,  behind  the  boat, 
pushing  it  gaily  in  front  of  him,  for  miles  at  a  time — a 
method  of  progression  entirely  new  to  me,  but  apparently 
well  known  to  the  men. 

Towns  were  scarce  in  this  part  of  the  river,  and  my 
followers  only  succeeded  in  securing  a  fourth  feed  of  one 
fowl  and  a  few  pounds  of  yam,  before  we  reached  Mavua, 
the  biggest  town  on  the  Singatoka,  where  the  growing 
dusk  obliged  us  to  stop.  How  much  they  ate  there, 
I  should  not  care  to  say,  being  anxious  to  retain  some 
character  for  truth-telling,  in  the  midst  of  a  sceptical  world. 

The  town  could  not  be  seen  from  the  river,  but  as  our 
boat  turned  in  to  the  shore,  and  grounded  near  the  bank, 
a  Mavuan  suddenly  appeared  from  nowhere,  dressed  in 
an  extremely  small  sulu,  and  armed  with  a  knife  three 
feet  long.  Seeing  that  we  were  going  to  land,  he  com- 
menced a  mad  dance  on  the  river  flat,  under  the  orange 
sunset,  his  high,  stiff  hair  shaking  about  on  his  head  like 
a  bed  of  sword-grass  in  the  wind,  his  knife  circling  round 
and  round,  while  his  huge  mouth,  every  now  and  then, 
emitted  a  yell  of  the  wildest  excitement. 

I  longed  for  a  better  light,  to  snapshot  this  strange 
vision,  and  stranger  welcome,  but  the  sun  was  already 
below  the  horizon,  so  that  I  could  not  secure  a  picture 
that  forcibly  recalled — in  appearance — the  not-so-long- 
ago  days  of  the  death-drum,  the  strangling  noose,  and 
the  "bokolo"  (human  body)  served  up  smoking  hot, 
with  savoury  herbs,  for  the  sunset  meal.     .     .     . 

The  amiable  savage  on  the  bank  stopped  dancing  as 
soon  as  we  reached  the  shore,  and  hastened  to  hand  me 
out  of  the  boat  with  a  vigour  that  simply  "yanked"  me 
over  the  gunwale,  two  or  three  yards  out  on  to  the  gravel 


HOSPITALITY  77 

flat.  He  then  drove  my  rings  into  my  flesh  by  an  agonis- 
ingly hearty  shake-hands,  went  and  picked  up  the  bundle 
of  reeds  he  had  been  cutting,  and  ran  ahead  of  us  up  to 
the  town,  whence  an  excited  crowd  issued  at  once  to 
escort  us  in. 

Another  pretty  village — another  hospitable  Buli; 
and  something  new  this  time  in  the  way  of  houses,  for  the 
Buli  of  Mavua  has  one  of  the  very  finest  houses  in  Fiji. 
It  is  about  as  large  as  an  ordinary  country  church,  or 
town  hall,  with  a  tremendously  high-pitched  roof,  and  a 
touch  of  European  civilisation  in  the  shape  of  two  glass 
windows,  which  make  it  unusually  light.  The  bedplace 
would  accommodate  three  or  four  large  families,  and 
the  yanggona  bowl  is  the  pride  of  the  Singatoka.  By 
its  dark  colour  and  thick,  opalescent  blue  enamelling,  I 
judged  it  to  be  an  heirloom  many  generations  old.  It  was 
the  size  of  an  ordinary  spongebath,  and  was  cut  out  of 
one  solid  block  from  a  giant  forest- tree.  Such  a  bowl  as 
this  is  greatly  prized,  and  proportionately  valuable,  for 
collectors  of  island  curiosities  are  ready  to  pay  large  sums 
in  order  to  obtain  a  good  specimen.  Most  of  the  chiefs, 
however,  prefer  to  keep  them. 

At  Mavua,  I  was  entertained  with  an  excellent  mek6- 
mek6,  or  song  and  dance.  There  had  been  a  small  one  at 
Natuatuathoko — a  sing-song  that  lasted  for  several  hours, 
beginning  with  some  verses  about  myself,  going  on  to 
celebrate  the  glories  of  the  horse  Tan6wa,  branching  off 
after  that  into  something  about  the  Andi  Keva,  a  coasting 
steamer,  and  subsequently  chanting  the  saga  of  all  crea- 
tion, from  Adam  down  to  the  latest  Colonial  Secretary, 
so  far  as  I  could  judge.  But  that  was  rather  an  unim- 
portant function,  whereas  the  Mavua  meke-mek6  was  one 
"with  all  the  frills  on,"  got  up,  at  some  cost  of  trouble, 
by  the  young  men  of  the  town  to  honour  my  visit. 


78  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

It  took  place  after  the  usual  pig-and-poultry  feast, 
in  the  morning.  A  number  of  the  youngest  and  best- 
looking  men  attired  themselves  in  white  sulus,  rubbed 
themselves  with  scented  cocoanut  oil  until  their  skins 
were  like  dark-brown  satin,  and  tied  bracelets  of  striped 
green-and- white  ribbon-grass  about  their  arms.  They 
also  placed  aigrettes  of  ribbon-grass  in  their  hair,  and 
fastened  bunches  of  brilliant  coral-coloured  flowers 
wherever  they  could  be  made  to  stay  about  arms  and 
shoulders,  or  among  the  ribbon-grass  in  their  yellow-dyed 
locks. 

Thus  attired,  they  looked  a  very  smart  and  personable 
set  of  young  men,  much  more  pleasing  in  appearance 
than  any  other  Fijians  I  had  yet  seen.  The  people  of 
Mavua  have  a  tradition  that,  early  in  the  nineteenth 
century,  a  white  man  came  to  live  in  their  town,  and 
took  to  himself  several  Mavuan  wives.  The  half-caste 
children  of  these,  marrying  among  the  pure  Fijians, 
introduced  a  strain  of  white  blood,  the  effects  of  which 
(or  so  they  say),  are  felt  to  the  present  day.  Certainly, 
the  Mavuans  are  somewhat  lighter-coloured  as  well  as 
better-looking  than  the  people  of  the  other  river  towns. 
But  I  could  notice  no  trace  of  white  ancestry  in  the  hair, 
which  is  as  stiff  and  woolly  as  that  of  any  other  group  of 
Fijian  people. 

A  mat  was  spread  on  the  ground,  and  the  young  men 
squatted  on  it  in  a  row;  one,  placed  at  the  rear,  keeping 
time  to  the  music  by  clicking  two  sticks.  The  per- 
formers began  by  slapping  their  hands  in  unison,  and 
then  launched  out  into  an  extraordinary  and  graceful 
sitting  dance;  heads,  bodies,  arms  and  hands  swaying 
with  one  impulse,  in  perfect  time.  Sometimes  they  all 
swept  low  to  the  left,  as  if  mown  down  by  a  scythe ;  some- 
times they  gathered  invisible  armiuls  into  their  arms,  or 


HOSPITALITY 


79 


pointed  at  unseen  sights ;  sometimes  they  raised  an  inde- 
scribable twitter  and  twinkle  of  all  their  bristling  decora- 
tions, shivering  and  shaking  as  they  sat.  And  all  the 
time  they  sang,  with  strong,  splendid,  sonorous  voices,  a 
wild,  sinister  chant,  that  waxed  louder  and  louder,  fiercer 
and  fiercer  every  minute.  What  brazen  throats!  what 
resonant  lungs  they  had!  The  booming  of  the  bass 
resounded  like  the  "bourdon"  stop  of  an  organ,  and  the 
wild  wanderings  of  the  melody  (if  such  it  could  be  called) 
brought  to  mind  the  rushing  of  sea-winds  in  the  huge 
fronds  of  the  cocoa-prJm,  above  the  surf  of  a  spouting 
island  reef.  For  an  hour  or  so  they  sat  and  sang  and 
swayed,  and  then  they  stopped  to  clap  in  chorus  once 
more,  and  ended.  The  words  were  indistinguishable 
throughout — not  many  of  even  the  Fijians  can  tell  the 
exact  meaning  of  the  verses  used  in  one  of  the  traditional 
ancient  mek^-mek^s — and  I  could  not  obtain  any  explana- 
tion of  the  actions,  but  some  of  them  seemed  distinctly 
suggestive  of  fishing,  and  the  river. 

Of  how  we  got  away — of  how  we  passed  several  towns 
and  stopped  (by  earnest  request)  to  feast  at  four,  on  pig, 
yam,  crayfish,  fat  river-clams,  and  stewed  fowls  cooked 
with  native  peppers  and  shallots ;  of  how  the  men  plotted 
to  stop  at  yet  a  fifth,  and  incited  Gideon  (who  was  a  lordly 
person,  and  didn't  have  to  row)  to  tell  me  that  Nasoni 
was  worn  out  with  fatigue,  and  would  be  ill  if  I  did  not 
shortly  call  a  rest ;  of  how  I  sternly  answered  that  Nasoni 
might  rest  in  the  boat,  and  Gideon  (who  laughed  wildly 
when  he  saw  how  he  was  caught)  should  take  his  turn  at 
the  oar  for  once ;  of  how  the  Buli  stood  at  the  foot  of  his 
river-stairs,  in  his  best  Sunday  sulu,  and  shrieked  to  us 
to  come  up  and  have  something  to  eat ;  of  how  we  floated 
relentlessly  past,  like  Elaine  going  down  to  Camelot,  and 
wouldn't  call;  of  how,  at  long  last,  we  came  toward  the 


8o  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

mouth  of  the  river,  near  the  open  sea,  and  I  got  up  on 
the  seats,  and  said  "  Thdlassa,  thdlassa!''  (or,  at  least, 
felt  like  it) ;  of  how  I  reached  a  white  magistrate's  house, 
and  quartered  myself  therein,  and  was  hospitably  wel- 
comed, also  given  clean  clothes,  and  tea  with  real  milk 
in  it — I  cannot  write  in  detail.  Nor  is  it  necessary  to  add 
(therefore  I  add  it,  since  the  superfluities  of  life  are  the 
only  things  anyone  really  cares  to  have)  that  Joni, 
Nasoni  and  Gideon  picked  up  most  of  the  guavas,  and 
75  per  cent,  of  the  oranges,  that  we  met  floating  down  the 
river  from  the  trees  on  the  banks ;  that  they  ate  them,  and 
that,  furthermore,  arrived  at  the  constabulary  station 
where  they  were  put  up,  they  consumed  (in  addition  to 
one  feast  at  Mavua  and  four  coming  down  the  river)  all 
the  tinned  meat,  biscuit,  tea,  yam  and  rice  offered  them 
by  the  Governmental  authorities,  as  liberal  rations  for 
travelled  and  hungry  men. 

That  they  were  ill,  after  all,  I  know;  for  they  left  me 
a  day  or  so  later  (not  in  too  good  condition)  when  I  hired 
a  cutter  to  take  me  down  the  coast;  and  months  after- 
ward, I  heard  that  "the  marama  had  taken  Joni  and 
Nasoni  away  from  Ba  River  down  to  the  Singatoka,  and 
they  came  back  very  sick,  for  she  had  worked  them  nearly 
to  death!" 

Before  leaving  the  district,  I  heard  that  many  thou- 
sands of  acres  of  the  best  land  in  all  Fiji  were  to  be  had 
on  the  Singatoka  for  banana-growing,  tea,  coffee,  vanilla, 
or  stock-raising;  and  that  the  complicated  and  trouble- 
some native  laws  which  had  caused  much  difficulty  about 
land  tenure  in  Fiji  were  being  swept  away.  By  the  time 
these  lines  appear  in  print,  it  will  be  possible  for  any 
desirable  settler  to  obtain  land  at  low  prices  direct  from 
the  Native  Office  in  Suva,  without  any  fear  of  offending 
and,  consequently,  living  on  bad  terms  with  his  coloured 


HOSPITALITY  8i 

/• 

neighbours,  and  also  without  any  doubt  as  to  the  security 
of  his  own  title. 

There  is  no  necessity  to  tell  how  I  got  back  to  Mavua, 
and  thence  to  Suva,  seventy  miles  from  the  mouth  of 
the  Singatoka.  There  was  a  very  rough  sea,  and  a  cutter, 
with  a  little  dog-kennel  forward,  and  a  miserable  creature 
that  crouched  within,  for  a  wretched  day  and  night.  .  .  . 
But  let  us  draw  a  rug  over  it,  as  I  did. 


CHAPTER  V 

PERSONAL  IMPRESSIONS 

The  Song  of  the  Road — Fijian  Fun — Night  on  the  Wain- 
ikoro — The  Noble  Savage  Fails — The  Village  Plate 
— The  Lot  of  the  Kaisi — Sharks  Again — A  Swim 
for  it. 

NORTHWARD  of  Viti  Levu  ("Great  Fiji"),  where  I 
had  been  traveUing,  lies  Vanua  Levu  ("Great 
Land"),  the  second  largest  island  of  the  group.  It  is 
over  one  hundred  miles  long,  and  thirty  miles  across. 
On  the  map,  it  looked  interesting  and  easy;  so  I  took  a 
steamer  up  to  Lambasa,  the  principal  port,  intending  to 
see  something  of  the  island. 

Six  weeks  afterward  I  came  back,  having  travelled 
about  a  hundred  and  eighty  miles  in  the  interior;  spent 
the  best  part  of  a  month,  in  different  slices  of  time, 
waiting  for  steamers;  and  learned,  once  for  all,  what 
being  "  off  the  road"  really  meant.  Viti  Levu  was  a  mere 
summer's  day  picnic  compared  to  Vanua  Levu.  Stanley 
(I  cannot  get  rid  of  the  comparison)  would  have  liked 
Vanua  Levu.  He  would  have  enjoyed  the  total  absence 
of  bridges,  the  fine  profusion  of  swamps  and  gullies,  the 
days  when  the  men  had  to  keep  their  knives  always  ready 
to  hack  a  path  through  choking  lianas,  the  mornings  when 
it  rained  horribly,  and  one  had  to  go  on,  and  get  soaked ; 
the  evenings  when  one  had  to  put  up  in  a  house  without 
any  doors,  each  open  doorway  serving  as  a  sort  of  opera- 
box  for  a  score  or  two  of  greatly  excited  and  interested 

83 


84  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

natives,  looking  on  eagerly  at  the  performance  inside. 
He  would  have  liked  to  eat  ancient  biscuits  soaked  through 
with  rain,  and  thoughtfully  wrapped  up  by  one  of  the 
men  in  a  spare  sulu,  only  half  soiled — he  would  have 
enjoyed  rough-washed  clothes,  cleaned  by  himself  in  a 
river  with  a  scrap  of  toilet  soap — the  acquirement  of  a 
permanently  scarlet  nose  would  not  have  grieved  him  as 
it  grieved  me,  and  I  am  quite  sure  that  he  wouldn't  have 
got  surly  and  unamiable  every  time  it  was  necessary  to 
dirty  his  clothes  with  wet  red  clay. 

I  do  not  apologise  for  writing  about  the  mere  personal 
impressions  of  this  trip,  because  many  books  of  travel 
have  taught  me  that  the  modesty  which  omits  them  is 
mistaken.  Most  people  like  to  know  how  a  traveller 
in  out-of-the-way  regions  feels  and  thinks;  without  such 
details,  the  account  becomes  a  mere  dose  of  undiluted 
geography. 

There  were  some  small  risks  in  the  Vanua  Levu 
journey,  but  no  great  perils;  many  little  hardships,  but 
no  starvation,  fever,  thirst,  dangerous  heat  or  cold.  The 
only  real  difficulty  was  the  responsibility,  which,  hour 
after  hour,  and  day  after  day,  lay  somewhat  heavily 
on  my  unaccustomed  mind,  new  to  uncivilised  travel. 
I  wanted  to  see  and  understand  the  resources  of  the 
country  for  myself,  and  to  this  end,  it  was  necessary 
to  select  the  best  tracks,  from  data  furnished  by  a  mass 
of  incoherent  native  statements,  badly  translated — to 
decide  where  to  go,  in  a  country  where  each  rare  white 
settler  knew  his  own  neighbourhood,  and  very  little 
beyond — ^to  keep  my  horse  from  breaking  his  legs,  or 
getting  drowned,  every  hour  in  the  day,  prevent  my  men 
from  running  away,  and  keep  myself  in  good  condition 
on  a  diet  of  tinned  meat,  dry  biscuit,  and  milkless  tea — 
all  these  were  tasks  that  called  for  a  good  deal  of  energy 


PERSONAL  IMPRESSIONS  85 

small  though  they  might  appear  to  those  real  explorers 
whose  feats  I  was  faintly  copying,  as  Early  Victorian 
ladies  used  to  copy  fine  steel  engravings  in  pale  niggling 
pencil-work.  Yet  I  enjoyed  the  trouble,  enjoyed  even 
the  inconveniences,  after  a  fashion,  since  they  were 
richly  paid  for,  in  the  pure  gold  coin  that  Nature  mints 
for  sailors,  campers,  and  gipsy  wanderers  alone.  Some 
need,  so  exceedingly  deep  down  in  the  roots  of  humanity 
that  one  cannot  even  define  or  name  it,  seems  to  be 
satisfied  by  wanderings  such  as  these.  Ix  is  a  need  not 
felt  by  all  (though  lying  latent  in  very  many  who  never 
suspect  its  existence,  until  sudden  changes  of  circum- 
stances call  it  out),  and  those  who  do  not  experience  it 
find  it  hard  to  understand.  Yet  it  is  one  of  the  strongest 
forces  in  the  world — hunger,  love,  the  lust  of  battle,  alone 
can  rank  with  it  in  power  over  humanity.  The  "Song 
of  the  Road"— the  "Call  of  the  Wild"— and  other 
terms  coined  by  an  analytical  generation  for  this  name- 
less power,  describe  it  more  fairly  than  the  trumpery 
tinsel  names  of  the  guide-books  describe  the  miracles 
of  the  awful  canyon  lands  of  w^estem  America.  But 
those  who  know  what  it  is  to  come  home  to  Earth,  under- 
stand the  meaning  of  the  call,  although  at  the  very  com- 
ing, she  lays  a  cold  finger  on  their  lips  for  welcome,  and 
says,  "You  shall  know,  you  shall  enjoy,  but  you  shall 
never  tell.     ...     " 

.  .  .  After  the  monotony  of  Society  in  Suva — 
after  the  days  under  galvanised  iron  roofs,  and  the  chatter 
about  infinite  nothings,  and  the  long-tailed  frocks  worn 
in  shaded,  scented  drawing-rooms — came  the  out-of- 
doors  again;  " boot-and-saddle "  once  more  (it  hurt  my 
sense  of  the  dramatic  unities  to  think  that  I  didn't  wear 
boots,    but   shoes),    and   again   the   rough,    half-known 


86  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

country  of  the  kindly  brown  men.  Lambasa  is  the  only 
oasis  of  civilisation  on  Vanua  Levu,  and  even  it  consists 
merely  of  a  Colonial  Sugar  Refining  Company  estate, 
with  what  Goldsmith  would  have  called  "all  its  busy 
train"  of  Indian  and  Solomon  Island  labourers,  and  white 
managers,  overseers,  clerks  and  mechanics.  There  is  a 
store  or  two,  also  a  Government  Armed  Native  Con- 
stabulary Station,  and  outside,  the  wilderness.  No 
roads,  no  towns  save  some  Fijian  villages,  no  white  men, 
except  single  specimens  at  intervals  of  several  days'  ride; 
no  regular  mails,  no  stores,  save  a  little  shanty  or  two  at 
very  wide  intervals,  kept  by  Indians  or  Chinese.  Even 
the  native  villages  are  far  apart;  you  may  journey 
twenty  miles  without  seeing  one,  whereas  in  Viti  Levu 
there  is  always  food  and  shelter  within  ten  miles  at 
farthest. 

Nor  are  the  people  of  Vanua  Levu  like  the  people  of 
Viti  Levu.  Farther  away  from  civilisation,  and  less  under 
the  influence  of  their  own  chiefs,  they  are  rougher  and 
wilder  in  every  way  than  the  natives  of  the  greater 
island.  In  Viti  Levu,  any  native  I  might  chance  to  meet 
on  the  road  at  once  removed  his  headband,  and  laid  down 
his  bundle  from  hjs  shoulder  (both  acts  of  respect), 
whereas,  in  Vanua  Levu,  parties  of  Fijians  travelling 
along  the  bush  tracks  would  stare  boldly  and  rudely, 
swagger  past  with  their  head-bands  in  place,  and  even 
keep  their  bundles  of  food  on  their  shoulders  while  passing 
— ^which,  in  a  Fijian,  is  simply  an  act  of  deliberate  rude- 
ness and  defiance.  Nor  did  my  men  remonstrate  with 
them  for  their  discourtesy.  A  Fijian,  at  best,  is  only 
outwardly  submissive  to  the  white  race.  He  is  a  craven 
at  heart,  and  therefore  easily  kept  down  by  the  British 
rule;  but  loyalty  to  an  employer  is  not  one  of  his  virtues. 
Attack  from  these  natives  was  a  thing  barely  within  the 


PERSONAL  IMPRESSIONS  87 

bounds  of  possibility,  so  I  did  not  fear  it;  but  I  knew 
that  if  any  trouble  had  occurred,  my  three  big  Fijians 
would  simply  have  run  away  to  avoid  being  concerned 
in  it,  and  left  me  to  see  it  out  by  myself. 

Hearing  that  there  was  a  good  deal  of  excellent 
native  land  available  at  Wainikoro,  some  twenty-two 
miles  from  Vuo,  where  I  landed,  I  secured  a  horse,  and 
engaged  a  couple  of  carriers  to  accompany  myself  and 
Gideon,  my  special  interpreter  and  servant,  whom  I 
had  brought  on  from  Viti  Levu.  The  horse  belonged 
to  the  local  Buli,  and  had  every  vice  that  a  native  horse 
can  have.  He  shied,  in  a  manner  that  I  can  only  classify 
as  virulent,  deleterious  and  disconnective;  he  bit  like  a 
rat  at  bay;  he  kicked  at  me  one-leggedly,  like  a  misogy- 
nistic  ostrich;  he  was  thick  in  the  wind,  didn't  like  hills, 
was  afraid  of  slippery  places,  and  endeavoured  (ap- 
parently as  a  matter  of  principle)  to  wipe  me  off  against 
every  cocoanut-tree  he  met.  Such  as  he  was,  however, 
he  was  the  only  means  of  travel  available,  so  I  engaged 
him  for  a  few  weeks,  and  trusted  to  time  and  care  to 
improve  his  manners.  The  men  named  him  "Somo- 
somo,"  and  always  addressed  him  by  his  title.  I  asked 
what  it  meant,  and  they  told  me,  "Fiji  flower,  plenty 
good  flower" — ^which  led  me  to  infer  that  either  their 
knowledge  of  horses  was  small,  or  their  charity  large ;  for 
if  Somo-somo  was  the  flower  of  Fijian  horse-flesh,  it  did 
not  say  much  for  the  remaining  steeds  of  the  colony. 

The  Flower  did  not  like  my  side-saddle,  first  of  all; 
secondly,  he  entered  a  protest  against  that  unexpected 
outrage,  my  riding-habit;  and  thirdly,  he  objected  very 
strongly,  in  gross  and  in  detail,  to  myself.  These  prej- 
udices having  been  overcome  in  some  degree,  and  a  start 
made  from  the  hospitable  house  where  I  had  been  enter- 
tained on  my  arrival,  we  got  on  our  way  to  Wainikoro. 


88  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

The  chiefs  of  Vanua  Levu  would  not  allow  their  men 
to  go  away  for  more  than  a  few  days,  so  (as  a  Buli,  or 
chief,  has  power  over  all  the  men  in  his  district,  and 
none  of  them  can  leave  it  without  his  permission),  I 
had  several  different  sets  of  carriers  during  my  joumey- 
ings,  instead  of  keeping  the  same  men  right  through, 
as  in  Viti  Levu.  This  was  not  so  good  a  plan,  as  the 
men  were  making  less  money,  and  were  therefore  much 
more  prone  to  desert  me,  and  to  lag  carelessly  behind, 
over  country  where  they  could  easily  have  beaten  my 
horse.  On  the  way  to  Wainikoro,  I  saw  little  of  them, 
except  at  meals.  There  was  no  question  in  Vanua  Levu 
of  the  demoralising  Capuan  luxury  that  I  had  experi- 
enced on  the  Singatoka.  Villages  were  far  apart,  and 
poor,  and  though  the  contents  of  my  purse  obtained 
sufficient  food  for  all,  there  was  no  superfluity. 

Half  the  day's  journey  to  Wainikoro  lay  through 
"The  Company's"  fields  of  bright-green  sugar-cane. 
Afterward,  we  came  into  woods  beautiful  as  all  the 
Fijian  forests  are,  and  most  pleasantly  cool.  The  track 
was  about  a  couple  of  feet  wide  in  most  places, 
and  so  steep  that  a  good  deal  of  walking  had  to  be  done. 
Gideon  was  in  his  element,  with  a  new  audience  for  his 
boastings  and  braggings  about  me.  I  caught  odd 
fragments  of  conversation,  as  we  journeyed  on,  that  told 
me  my  social  status  was  increasing.  In  Viti  Levu,  I 
had  merely  been  an  intimate  friend  of  King  Edward's. 
Here  I  was  an  "  Andi,"  or  princess,  according  to  Gideon: 
I  had  bags  fuU  of  gold,  and  a  hundred  boxes  of  clothes  in 
Suva — he  had  carried  them  up  from  the  steamer  him- 
self. I  was  such  a  great  lady  that  I  lived  on  tinned 
meat  and  biscuit  every  day,  and  constantly  had  tea  with 
sugar  in  it,  and  I  was  splendidly  generous,  as  befitted 
such  a  personage;  for  every  now  and  then  I  would  give 


PERSONAL  IMPRESSIONS  89 

as  much  as  sixpence  to  buy  tobacco  for  the  men  (Fijian 
tobacco,  of  which  one  gets  a  good  handful  for  that  sum), 
and  I  often  gave  away  whole  quarter-pounds  of  sugar, 
just  to  eat  as  they  liked.  I  had  a  revolver  that  would 
kill  twenty  men  at  half  a  mile,  and  I  had  fought  all 
through  the  Boer  War  (in  which  struggle  the  Fijians 
took  the  warmest  interest),  shot  hundreds  of  Boers, 
and  cut  their  heads  off  afterward.  .  .  .  With  these 
and  other  fictions  did  my  henchman  entertain  the  gaping 
carriers,  who  evidently  swallowed  every  word  and,  in 
consequence,  respected  their  informant  all  the  more, 
in  that  he  was  privileged  to  be  the  servant  of  such  a 
celebrity. 

I  was  not  sorry  that  the  men  stayed  out  of  sight  a 
good  part  of  the  day,  for  I  could  enjoy  the  beauty  of 
the  scenery  better  when  quite  alone,  and  it  certainly 
was  very  lovely.  Once  the  track  broke  suddenly  out 
of  a  grove  of  feathery  ironwoods  into  the  staring  sun, 
and  dipped  downward  toward  a  wide  green  plain  bor- 
dered by  brown  and  purple  hills,  with  just  one  line  of 
distant  mountain  peaks  rearing  their  blue  battlements 
on  the  horizon.  .  .  .  Only  a  range  of  mountains, 
covered  with  reeds  and  forest  here  and  there,  rough  and 
uninteresting,  no  doubt,  when  one  reached  it,  with  ups 
and  downs  and  gullies  and  thickets  just  like  the  ground 
about  my  feet,  and  yet  .  .  .  And  yet,  if  I  could 
write  all  that  those  distant  summits  said  to  me,  as  they 
lay  sleeping  in  the  still  yellow  light  of  the  waning  after- 
noon— all  that  the  eternal  hills,  far  away  and  blue  and 
utterly  out  of  reach,  have  said  to  countless  souls  since 
the  beginning  of  time — I  should  speak  with  the  tongues 
of  men  and  angels,  and  tell  what  human  lips  have  never 
told,  and  never  will. 

I  turned  the  horse  down  into  the  valley,  and  soon 


90  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

the  woods  shut  in  the  path  again.  But  for  long  after, 
as  I  rode  through  the  quiet  forest,  with  no  company 
but  the  murmuring  hill-river  at  my  side,  two  lines  from 
some  half -forgotten  poet  kept  chanting  in  my  mind,  sadly, 
as  befitted  the  lonely  land  and  the  waning  day: 

"  .     .     ,     The  heights  of  heaven 
Where  I  shall  never  win." 

Sunset  was  near,  and  sunset,  in  these  latitudes,  means 
dark.  I  waited  for  the  men,  and  told  them  they  must 
hurry.  It  was  well  that  I  did  so,  for  we  came  soon  to  a 
place  where  the  track  disappeared  in  a  bog,  and  "Somo- 
somo"  had  to  be  coaxed  and  driven  over  the  narrowest 
part,  where  it  was  quite  safe  for  him  to  cross,  although  he 
could  not  be  induced  to  see  the  matter  in  that  light  at  first. 
After  ten  minutes'  dragging  and  yelling  and  beating,  he 
was  compelled  to  make  the  attempt,  and  landed  safely 
on  the  opposite  side,  not  without  a  flounder  or  two  that 
made  me  glad  I  had  had  the  sense  to  dismount.  Then 
one  of  the  carriers  opened  a  window  into  that  strange 
storehouse  of  contradictions  and  oddities,  Fijian  char- 
acter, and  showed  me  the  queerest  curiosity  it  had  yet 
furnished — a  specimen  of  Fijian  sense  of  humour.  He 
had  watched  the  horse  being  got  over  with  a  perfectly 
grave  countenance,  but  as  soon  as  it  was  fairly  across  and 
I  was  mounting  again,  he  went  to  the  side  of  the  track, 
carefully  picked  out  a  soft  piece  of  grass,  laid  aside  his 
load,  and,  flinging  himself  down  on  the  ground,  began  to 
roll  and  kick  and  screech  with  a  mad,  violent,  almost 
terrifying  laughter,  that  surpassed  any  effort  in  that 
direction  I  could  have  imagined  in  my  wildest  dreams. 
That  any  human  being  could  laugh  like  that,  and  not 
kill  himself,  was  in  itself  a  most  astonishing  thing.  He 
choked,  he  crowed,  he  howled,  he  let  out  wild,  eldritch 


PERSONAL  IMPRESSIONS  91 

yells  that  woke  all  the  echoes  of  the  black,  sinister  valley 
along  which  we  were  travelling;  he  lay  on  his  face  and 
kicked,  he  lay  on  his  back  and  writhed,  he  gave  himself 
over  body  and  soul  to  a  very  devil  of  laughter.  And,  at 
intervals,  he  screeched,  in  a  voice  half  choked  with 
cackling;  "The  horse  wouldn't  go  over.  It  wouldn't 
go  over." 

It  took  some  time  before  I  realised  that  I  was  merely 
witnessing  a  Fijian  struck  with  amusement,  not  a  man 
dying  in  a  fit.  When  I  did  realise  it,  I  called  him  a  com- 
moner of  the  fourth  degree  (which  is  Fijian  vituperation), 
and  told  him  to  get  up  and  come  on.  But  I  have  never 
yet  been  able  to  make  out  where  the  fun  came  in. 

I  had  brought  no  watch  on  this  journey  (having 
unluckily  lost  mine  overboard  from  a  ship,  a  little  while 
before) ,  and  I  had  been  trying  to  learn  to  tell  the  time  by 
the  sun.  It  sounds  simple  enough,  until  one  attempts  it 
and  then  one  discovers  that  even  in  tropical  latitudes  the 
sun  is  not  exactly  in  the  centre  of  the  sky  at  noon;  also, 
that  it  seems  tc  travel  much  faster  at  the  beginning  and 
end  of  its  journey  than  in  the  middle.  After  a  good  many 
day's  practice  1  found  myself  able  (judging  by  the  sunset, 
which  was  about  six  o'clock),  to  tell  the  time  within  half 
an  hour  or  so;  but  I  never  got  any  nearer.  As  for  the 
natives,  they  have  extremely  little  knowledge  of  time  in 
any  case,  and  are  never  troubled  at  the  prospect  of  being 
benighted  on  the  road.  That,  again,  is  "  the  white  man's 
burden,"  not  any  business  of  theirs. 

We  did  get  benighted  on  this  occasion,  and  extremely 
unpleasant  it  was,  trying  to  bring  Somo-somo  safely  over 
the  various  bad  and  boggy  bits  in  the  dusk.  Dark  had 
fallen  by  the  time  we  reached  the  Wainikoro  RiVer,  which 
I  knew  to  be  near  the  town — and  behold,  there  was  not 
a  sign  of  a  human  being,  and  no  boat ! 


92  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

A  lovelier  spot  I  had  never  seen,  even  in  beautiful  Fiji. 
There  was  no  moon,  but  the  wonderful  tropic  starlight 
burned  in  the  purple  sky  with  such  a  clear  radiance  of  its 
own  that  the  wide  glassy  river,  edged  with  feathered  reeds, 
the  splendid  palms,  lifting  their  dark  coronets  eighty  feet 
up  among  the  stars,  the  orange-trees  on  the  further  side, 
dropping  their  juicy  globes  now  and  then  into  the  wave- 
less  mirror  below  with  a  dull,  dead-ripe  splash,  all  were 
plainly  visible.  It  was  like  a  daylight  scene  viewed 
through  a  piece  of  deep  violet  glass.  The  stillness  was 
intense ;  the  palm-trees  on  the  banks  stood  motionless  as 
ebony-coloured  plumes  on  a  catafalque;  the  black  river 
moved  by  without  a  ripple.  A  spot  where  one  could  have 
dreamed  and  wondered  for  hours;  where  Oberon  and 
Titania,  in  the  magic  starlight,  might  have. 

"  Sa  senga  na  kakana,  saka ' '  ("  We  have  no  food,  sir  ") . 

A  Fijian  has  no  poetry  in  his  soul — especially  if  he 
has  also  nothing  inside  the  most  vital  part  of  his  mortal 
machinery.  My  poetical  musings  were  scattered  at 
once,  and  I  came  down  to  the  plain  prose  of  night,  hunger, 
an  impassable  river,  and  the  men  wanting  their  supper. 

We  had  only  a  few  biscuits  left — the  tinned  meat  was 
unavailable  until  we  reached  a  town,  as  none  of  the  men 
happened  to  have  a  knife.  (I  don't  think  Speke  or 
Livingstone  would  have  forgotten  the  tin-opener,  as  I 
did.)  I  gave  out  the  biscuits,  reserving  rather  less  for 
myself,  in  the  dark,  as  I  knew  my  hunger  was  more  easily 
satisfied  than  theirs;  but  the  men  seemed  to  guess  what 
I  was  doing,  and  gave  back  part  of  their  share 
determinedly.  A  Fijian  woman  would  have  had  to  man- 
age with  the  scraps  they  left ;  a  white  woman  was  as  good 
as  a  man  to  them,  and  men  must  share  equally. 

We  could  do  nothing  but  wait  for  a  native  to  pass ;  so 
the  men  made  a  fire  to  keep  the  mosquitoes  off;  walked 


PERSONAL  IMPRESSIONS  93 

up  the  cocoanuts  like  flies,  and  threw  down  half  a  dozen 
green  nuts,  husked  them  on  a  sharp  stick  stuck  in  the 
ground,  opened  them,  and  handed  them  about.  Then 
they  lay  down  about  the  fire  to  eat  and  drink,  while  I 
walked  up  and  down  the  river  bank,  waiting  for  a  native. 

It  seemed  as  if  no  one  was  likely  to  come;  but  after 
half  an  hour  or  so,  I  heard  a  crackling  in  the  woods  on  the 
far  side.  The  noble  savages  ought  to  have  heard  it  before 
I  did ;  but  they  never  noticed  it,  being  intent  on  sucking 
cocoanuts,  and  when  I  pointed  it  out,  they  said  it  was 
probably  a  pig.  When  the  dark  form  of  a  native,  very 
slightly  clad,  appeared  like  a  slim  shadow  on  the  opposite 
bank,  I  called  the  men  up  again,  and  pointed  across. 
"That  is  not  a  pig,"  I  said.  They  laughed;  and  one 
more  delusion  about  the  "noble  savage"  vanished  from 
my  mind.  If  he  couldn't  tell  the  time  by  the  sun,  never 
knew  when  it  was  going  to  rain,  and  did  not  know  a  man's 
footstep  from  a  pig's,  it  seemed  to  me  that  he  was  not  fit 
for  his  part,  and  ought  to  be  hissed  off  the  stage. 

Gideon,  at  my  direction,  yelled  to  the  man  and  asked 
if  there  was  a  boat  or  a  canoe.  No,  there  was  neither. 
They  had  a  canoe,  but  it  was  away  up  the  river,  and 
wouldn't  be  back  till  to-morrow.  The  men  laughed — 
they  always  did  when  we  came  to  a  dead-lock — and  sat 
down  at  once  to  smoke.  I  hustled  them  up  again,  and 
told  them  to  unsaddle  Somo-somo,  and  lash  a  few  sticks 
together  to  put  my  luggage  on.  We  should  have  to  swim 
for  it. 

They  did  as  they  were  told,  and  I  went  down  to  the 
river's  edge  to  reconnoitre.  I  tasted  the  water — it  was 
brackish.  Now,  if  there  is  danger  of  sharks  high  up  in 
the  Fijian  rivers,  there  is  very  much  more  close  to  an 
estuary.     I  did  not  like  it. 

"  Ask  that  man  if  there  are  any  sharks,"  I  told  Gideon. 


94  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

"  No  shark  stop !"  he  rephed  confidently.  As  neither 
he  nor  the  carriers  had  ever  been  within  twenty  miles  of 
the  river,  and  as  Fijians  are  absolutely  reckless  about 
sharks,  I  did  not  set  much  value  on  his  remarks,  but 
called  over  to  the  native  on  the  far  side,  in  rather  bad 
Fijian: 

"Sa  senga  na  ngeo?"   ("Are  there  any  sharks?") 

Instead  of  the  loud,  comforting  "Seng'ai,  saka" 
("None,  sir")  which  I  hoped  for,  came  a  complicated 
reply  I  could  not  translate.  Gideon's  version  was:  "He 
say  sometime  shark  he  stop,  sometime  no  stop." 

This  was  not  good  enough.  Facing  the  astonishment 
of  the  native,  and  the  amused  scorn  of  the  men,  I 
declared  I  would  not  swim;  that  they  must  get  the 
canoe ;  that  I  was  a  great  chief,  and  would  assuredly  kill 
somebody  if  the  Wainikoro  people  didn't  go  and  capture 
that  boat,  and  bring  it  along,  alive  or  dead — and  other 
things  to  the  same  effect.  The  men's  amusement  at  my 
fear  of  sharks  broke  up  into  fright,  and  they  yelled  to  the 
native  to  get  the  canoe — ^get  anything — ^for  this  was  a 
terrible  marama  (lady),  and  there  was  no  knowing  what 
she  would  do  unless  pacified. 

There  is  no  power  on  earth  like  that  of  ill-temper — 
real  or  manufactured.  In  an  hour's  time,  the  canoe 
appeared,  and  Gideon  hastily  packed  my  goods  and 
myself  on  board.  Across  the  Wainikoro  we  went, 
followed  by  the  small,  meek,  dripping  head  of  Somo- 
somo  just  above  the  water,  and  in  another  half-hour  I 
was  installed  in  the  usual  native  house,  with  the  usual 
gaping  crowd  at  the  doors,  and  the  usual  fowl  and  yam 
preparing.  Fowl  is  the  one  thing  that  a  Fijian  eats  off 
a  plate,  instead  of  a  leaf.  He  does  not  care  to  lose  any 
of  the  precious  water  it  was  boiled  in,  so  he  always  serves 
the  murdered  bird  on  a  tin  plate,  which  in  many  cases 


THE  VILLAGE  PLATE 


te 


'  w=il•/.:_u;^^:>.- 


'ij£i^^^«k«^^^;M.^l^^^yl;;^ 


UN-PEOPLED  COUNTRY 


PERSONAL  IMPRESSIONS  95 

belongs  to  the  village  at  large,  and  is  sent  about 
from  house  to  house,  whenever  a  feast  is  in  progress. 
There  was  the  usual  fuss  about  hunting  up  the  village 
plate  while  the  food  was  preparing,  and  at  last  it  was 
brought  triumphantly  in.  Next  morning,  as  I  left,  I 
saw  it  being  hurried  to  the  native  teacher's  house,  by 
which  I  concluded  that  godly  men  from  another  village 
were  expected,  and  entertainment  was  being  prepared  for 
them.  Yam  and  ndalo  are  the  common  food  of  the 
people,  fowl  and  pig  being  rare  luxuries,  except  among 
the  chiefs.  In  these  days,  the  British  Government  keeps 
some  curb  on  the  exactions  and  tyrannies  of  the  native 
rulers,  and  they  cannot  treat  the  "  kaisi,"  or  commonalty, 
as  high-handedly  as  of  old.  Yet,  even  so,  the  lower 
classes  live  plainly  and  poorly,  while  the  chiefs  annex 
everything  that  takes  their  fancy,  in  the  way  of  food,  order 
the  "kaisi"  about  like  dogs,  and  compel  them,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course,  to  work  for  their  superiors  without  pay.  In 
Vanua  Levu,  which  is  nearly  all  wild  unbroken  country, 
with  very  few  white  residents,  I  saw  Fiji  in  the  rough,  and 
it  did  not  seem  to  me  that  the  lot  of  the  kaisi  was  at 
all  a  happy  one.  Thirty  or  forty  years  ago,  their  chiefs 
could  slay  them  at  pleasure.  Now  they  must  respect 
life,  at  least;  but  the  kaisi  is  not  allowed  to  have  a 
soul  of  his  own.  He  cannot  leave  his  village  without 
the  chief's  permission;  he  must  work  without  pay  as 
much  as  his  superior  desires,  building  houses  or  boats,  or 
cultivating  the  communal  patches  of  yam  and  ndalo. 
Ambition  is  impossible  to  him;  born  a  kaisi,  he  must 
remain  one,  and  cannot  hope  for  improvement  in  his  lot. 
Something  of  this  is  reflected  in  his  ways  of  living  and 
even  his  expression  of  face.  In  the  other  Pacific  groups 
I  have  visited,  a  village  at  dusk  is  bright  and  merry, 
sounding  with  music  and  laughter,  and  full  of  lights.     In 


96  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

Fiji,  the  towns  are  dark  and  silent  at  night;  there  is  little 
singing,  and  the  amusements  are  of  a  quiet  kind,  card- 
playing  and  yanggona-drinking  being  the  chief.  The 
Samoan,  the  Tongan,  the  Tahitian,  or  Cook  Islander  lives 
for  pleasure  and  amusement — picnics,  travelling  parties, 
continual  dances  and  songs,  games  of  every  kind  enliven- 
ing his  day  and  night.  Chiefs,  in  these  other  groups,  are 
less  oppressive,  and  the  communal  system,  with  its  care 
for  the  tribe,  and  harshness  to  the  individual,  is  much 
less  strictly  carried  out.  But  in  Fiji,  the  kaisi  has 
not  much  heart  to  invent  games  and  amusements.  He 
can  be  a  jolly  fellow  enough  in  his  own  way ;  he  is  exceed- 
ingly good-natured,  readily  pleased,  and  delighted  with 
a  joke.  Still,  at  bottom,  he  has  a  spring  of  darkness  and 
melancholy  that  is  ever  ready  to  rise  and  overflow  the 
surface  sunniness.  His  fathers  lived  lives  of  gloom  and 
terror,  always  under  the  shadow  of  the  war-club  and  the 
braining-stone,  and  within  sound  of  the  terrible  "lali," 
or  death-drum.  When  a  chief  died,  the  kaisi  were 
slain  in  dozens,  and  thrown  into  his  grave,  because — "a 
chief  must  have  grass  to  line  his  tomb,  so  that  he  may  lie 
soft."  When  a  war-canoe  was  launched,  it  went  down 
to  the  sea  over  hundreds  of  writhing  human  bodies,  whose 
life-blood  stained  its  keel,  and  whose  death-yells  sped  it 
on  its  way.  Living  men  were  placed  in  the  holes  that 
received  the  supporting  pillars  of  every  chiefly  mansion; 
human  bodies,  frequently  alive,  were  daily  forced  into 
the  red-hot  cooking-ovens  that  supplied  the  meals  of  the 
chief.  What  wonder  that  the  shadow  of  these  hideous 
days — which  can  yet  be  remembered  by  the  older  men — 
should  still  rest  upon  the  younger  generation? 

I  left  Somo-somo  peacefully  grazing  at  Wainikoro  next 
morning,  and  went  off  to  look  at  a  stretch  of  country 
immediately  beyond,  which  I  had  been  told  was  good 


PERSONAL  IMPRESSIONS  97 

land  for  planters.  What  I  saw  was  a  patch  about  four 
miles  long,  and  apparently  not  much  less  in  width,  com- 
posed of  low,  grassy  flats,  and  pandanus  prairie ;  all  nat- 
ural land,  but  practically  cleared.  I  heard  that  there  was 
a  good  deal  more  of  the  same  kind  further  along  the  coast. 
No  one  could  tell  me  what  the  probable  rent  might  be,  but 
it  could  not  exceed  a  very  few  shillings  an  acre. 

Next  day,  the  horse  was  saddled  early,  but  we  could 
not  get  away  at  once,  as  one  of  my  men  had  gone  off 
to  a  meke-meke  in  a  neighbouring  town,  and  had  to  be 
fetched.  It  was  well  on  toward  noon  when  we  got  to 
the  river  again — a  few  hundred  yards  higher  up  this  time 
but,  nevertheless,  at  a  spot  where  it  was  wide  and  deep 
— and  found  that  the  canoe  had  been  taken  away  again ! 
It  was  irrecoverably  gone  this  time — gone  out  to  sea  on 
a  fishing  excursion,  sure  to  last  till  next  day  at  least — 
and  there  was  not  even  a  raft  to  be  had. 

Could  not  the  men  make  a  raft?     I  asked  Gideon. 

Gideon,  indifferently  chewing  sugar-cane,  said  there 
was  no  bamboo  about  here.  Could  they  not  make  one 
of  an5rthing  else?  Gideon  was  not  much  interested; 
did  not  think  so,  sir;  didn't  know  what  they  did  when 
they  wanted  to  get  things  across  the  river  dry.  Did 
not  know  anything.  Obviously  wanted  to  sit  down  and 
smoke. 

With  the  calmness  of  despair,  I  extracted  my  swim- 
ming-dress from  my  box,  and  went  off  into  the  wood. 
Rettiming  clad  in  "rationals"  and  a  cloak,  I  told  Gideon 
to  follow  me  with  my  goods,  and  to  keep  them  dry, 
somehow,  anyhow,  on  pain  of  frightful  retribution. 
Then  I  left  the  cloak  on  the  bank,  waded  across  the 
shallows,  feeling  unconscionably  cold  and  shaky,  but 
assuring  myself  that  I  wasn't  a  bit  afraid,  and  plunged 
into  the  fifty  yards'  stretch  of  deep  water.     .     .     . 


98  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

I  never  swam  like  that  before;  I  never  shall  again. 
Imaginary  sharks  chased  my  horribly  conspicuous  red 
swimming-dress  and  white  English  skin  right  up  to  the 
bed  of  greasy  mud  on  which  I  landed.  I  w^as  half  up 
the  bank  before  I  remembered  that  my  clothes  were  on 
the  other  side,  and  that  Gideon  in  all  probability  would 
rather  die  than  bring  them  to  my  side  of  the  river,  since 
it  is  strictly  "taboo"  for  a  Fijian  man  to  bathe  at  the 
same  time  as  a  woman.  So  I  sat  in  the  mud,  and  screamed 
to  a  native  w^oman  who  was  watching  the  proceedings 
from  the  farther  shore;  and  she  (having  no  fear  of  sharks, 
as  I,  miserable  craven  of  a  ''papa-langi,"  had),  put  my 
things  on  her  head  and  came  over  at  once.  And  I  took 
them  into  the  bush  and  dressed,  reflecting  that  Cook 
would  have  made  a  raft;  La  P^rouse  w^ouldn't  have 
minded  the  sharks,  and  Sir  Samuel  Baker  would  never, 
never  have  forgotten  to  tie  his  clothes  on  his  head  before 
he  started  across. 

So,  very  humble,  I  mounted  Somo-somo,  who  w^as 
steaming  and  dripping  in  the  sun,  and  rode  away,  back 
to  civilisation,  as  represented  by  the  solitary  house  of 
the  kindly  white  magistrate  and  his  wife,  who  had  enter- 
tained me  at  Vuo.  It  w^as  a  long  day's  ride  and  a  pleasant, 
.and  never,  while  my  mortal  frame  hangs  together,  shall 
I  forget  the  wild  pineapples  that  the  men  discovered 
beside  the  track  in  a  baking,  sun-smitten  little  valley. 
We  were  all  hot  and  thirsty,  and  the  fruit,  though  it 
was  as  warm  as  if  just  taken  out  of  an  oven,  was  delicious 
— rich,  wild-flavoured,  and  so  juicy  that  the  men  and  I 
had  to  go  back  to  a  stream  and  wash,  after  eating  a  pine- 
apple apiece — with  one  over  for  Somo-somo,  who  sturdily 
begged  for  his  share. 

I  heard  afterward  that  the  Wainikoro  River  certainly 
had  sharks,  and  that  recently,  just  below  the  spot  where 


THE  BOATLESS  WAINIKORO 


THE  WILD  PINEAPPLES 


PERSONAL  IMPRESSIONS  99 

I  swam  across,  a  native  man  and  woman,  crossing  with 
a  dog  between  them,  had  seen  the  dog  taken  down  by  a 
shark  before  their  eyes.  It  is  well  known,  of  course, 
that  brown  or  black  people  run  much  less  risk  from 
sharks  than  white;  which  may  explain  the  stolidity  of 
the  Fijian  mind  regarding  these  horrible  creatures.  The 
river-sharks  are  not  large — only  six  to  eight  feet,  as  a 
rule — ^but  they  are  quite  capable  of  biting  off  a  limb,  or 
inflicting  a  fatal  injury. 


CHAPTER  VI 

CONTRASTING  SCENES 

Off  to  the  Ndreketi — Fijian  Smart  Society — A  Native 
Princess — The  Sugar-cane  Dance — Getting  Bogged — 
The  Use  of  Bad  Language — The  Ndreketi  River — 
A  Splendid  Timber  Country — A  Native  Diary — 
Truth  about  Tropical  Forests — How  to  Live  on  Noth- 
ing a  Day 

THE  next  trip  I  decided  to  take  in  Vanua  Levu  was 
a  much  longer  one — up  the  Ndreketi  River,  and 
into  its  forests,  to  see  the  timber  country.  The  river 
was  only  about  fifty  miles  from  my  starting-place — a 
two  days'  journey,  if  the  tracks  had  been  good- -but  it 
took  me  four  days'  travel  to  get  there.  Only  thirteen 
miles  could  be  covered  the  first  day,  because  of  a  tidal 
river,  that  had  to  be  crossed  late  in  the  afternoon  or  not 
at  all.  Tambia,  my  stopping-place  for  the  first  night, 
can  be  cordially  recommended  to  all  future  travellers 
as  an  excellent  place  to  let  alone.  We  came  in  at  dusk, 
and  were  at  once  surrounded  by  the  usual  crowd;  but  it 
was  not  a  pleasant  crowd  on  this  occasion.  Nearly  half 
of  them  seemed  to  be  suffering  from  unpleasant  skin 
diseases.  One  or  two  were  scaly  like  fish;  several  were 
marked  with  horrible  Fijian  "thoko" — a  disease  that 
shows  itself  in  flat,  button-like  eruptions,  turning  by- 
and-by  to  formidable  sores — some  had  open  ulcers,  all 
black  with  flies,  on  arms  and  legs;  and  not  a  few  were 
generally    sick    and    decrepit-looking.     Their    clothes — 


I02  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

— only  a  loin-cloth  apiece — were  unspeakably  dirty, 
and  every  unoccupied  moment  seemed  to  be  spent  in 
hunting  through  each  other's  huge  frizzled  heads  for 
certain  small  game ;  which,  when  found,  were  imm.ediately 
eaten  by  the  finder! 

This  unsavoury  gang  pointed  out  the  Turanga  ni 
Koro's  house,  and  I  entered  by  the  side  door;  the  men, 
as  befitted  their  low  estate,  going  in  by  the  door  at  the 
gable  end.  This,  as  I  have  said  before,  is  an  important 
piece  of  etiquette  in  Fiji,  the  side  doors  of  the  houses 
being  strictly  reserved  for  chiefs  and  distinguished  visi- 
tors. Even  at  the  present  day,  a  kaisi  who  entered 
by  the  side  instead  of  the  gable  door,  would  probably 
be  thrown  out  again  with  considerable  violence,  and  in 
old  times  he  would  certainly  have  been  clubbed. 

The  chief  of  the  town  was  not  in  when  I  arrived.  I 
let  the  men  put  down  my  baggage,  and  seated  myself  on 
the  "tabu  kaisi"  mat  (forbidden  to  commoners),  which 
the  women  at  once  spread  at  the  upper  end  of  the  room. 
The  house  seemed  to  be  clean,  but  I  did  not  like  it.  It 
smelt  close  and  heavy — a  faint  yet  curiously  revolting 
odour  seemed  to  cling  about  everything  in  the  place. 
I  could  not  make  out  the  cause,  nor  could  I  call  up  any 
recollection  of  a  similar  smell,  even  from  the  varied 
experiences  of  the  last  few  months.  I  wondered  greatly, 
but  my  wonderings  soon  came  to  an  end,  for  the  Turanga 
ni  Koro  appeared  in  a  few  minutes,  and  limped  across 
the  floor  to  welcome  me,  leaning  on  a  stick.  His  foot, 
half  hidden  by  a  rough  scrap  of  bandage,  was  almost 
dropping  off  ;the  bone  was  visible,  and  the  odour.     .     .     . 

"Gideon!"  I  said,  turning  to  my  indolent  head- 
man, who  was  lying  on  the  floor,  chewing  sugar-cane. 

"This  man  got  leprosy!" 

"Huh?" 


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mi 

CONTRASTING  SCENES  103 

"This  man  leper? — all  same  sick  Indiaman,  Suva?" 

"Yes,  sir.  All  same,"  replied  Gideon,  taking  another 
plug  of  sugar-cane.  He  had  seen  cases  of  leprosy  among 
the  Indians  in  Suva,  and  I  knew  he  was  almost  certainly 
right.  That  anyone  could  object  to  a  leper  as  a  host 
and  entertainer  did  not,  however,  enter  into  his  view 
of  life.  The  Fijians  are  absolutely  reckless  about  such 
matters,  and  cannot  understand  the  meaning  of  infection, 
which,  like  the  sceptical  American  farmer's  wife,  they 
take  to  be  merely  "an  idee  in  folk's  he^ds." 

I  was  sorry  for  the  man,  and  still  more  sorry  to  hurt 
his  feelings,  as  I  knew  I  should  do,  in  leaving  his  house; 
but  leprosy!  the  mats  and  dishes  and  bed  belonging  to 
a  leper — the  floor  over  which  he  trailed  that  fearful 
stump.     .     .     !     No,  it  was  impossible! 

I  told  Gideon  to  inform  the  chief  that  I  could  not 
possibly  stay  in  the  house,  because  of  his  sickness, 
although  I  was  very  sorry  to  leave  it.  Gideon  told  him, 
and  the  chief,  sitting  on  the  floor,  bowed  his  head  sadly, 
and  said  in  a  low  voice:  "Savinaka!"  ("It  is  well!"). 
I  got  up  and  retired,  with  a  few  incoherent  politenesses; 
the  men  turned  a  small,  passably  clean  family  out  of 
another  house,  and  I  slept  fairly  well,  enveloped  in  my 
closed  mosquito-net  of  fine  lawn,  till  morning.  Needless 
to  say,  I  was  very  early  indeed  on  the  way  again. 

Nanduri,  ten  miles  further  on,  should  not  by  rights 
have  been  a  stopping-place ;  but  who  could  have  resisted 
it,  especially  after  Tambia?  A  big,  handsome  town 
of  several  hundred  inhabitants  was  Nanduri,  with  a 
wide,  grassy  main  street,  and  clusters  of  the  prettiest 
little  houses  imaginable  running  away  all  round  it  to 
hide  themselves  in  clumps  of  orange,  palm,  hibiscus 
and  flame-coloured  crotons.  The  Roko  Tui  Macuata, 
or  Prince  of  Macuata,  lived  here,  also  a  few  minor  chiefs. 


I04  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

The  tone  of  society  in  Nanduri  seemed  as  high  as  in 
Tambia  it  had  been  low.  Clean  clothes  were  the  rule; 
nearly  all  the  men  and  women  had  shirts  and  "pinis"; 
there  was  no  visible  skin  disease,  and  the  town  actually 
enjoyed  the  luxury  of  water  laid  on  in  pipes  from  the 
river  above!  The  white  magistrate  who  ruled  over  that 
district  had  had  the  pipes  laid  down,  on  one  of  his  peri- 
odical visits;  and  the  people  had  taken  very  kindly 
indeed  to  the  labour-saving  arrangement  of  stand-pipes 
all  along  the  street,  and  a  shower-bath  on  the  largest 
green.  This  latter  was  in  constant  use  all  day  long,  the 
natives  delighting  in  the  cool  cataract  that  descended 
from  a  perforated  disc  overhead,  at  the  turning  of  a  tap. 
The  publicity  of  its  situation  did  not,  of  course,  em- 
barrass them  at  all,  but  they  had  some  glimmerings  of 
European  ideas  and  customs  in  such  matters;  and  there- 
fore, for  sheer  style,  they  had  enclosed  the  shower-bath 
— ^with  a  bird-cage  of  bamboo  bars! 

The  Roko  was  away;  but  his  wife,  Makarita,  re- 
ceived and  entertained  me  right  royally,  giving  me  the 
largest  of  the  Roko's  three  fine  houses  to  stay  in,  feeding 
me  on  fowls,  pork,  and  the  best  of  river-crayfish  during 
the  w^hole  of  my  three  days'  stay,  and  organising  various 
meke-mek6s  for  my  entertainment.  Makarita's  marriage, 
which  took  place  only  a  year  or  two  ago,  was  quite  a 
pretty  little  romance.  The  Roko  is  neither  young  nor 
lovely,  but  he  is  a  prince,  and  therefore  should,  by 
rights,  have  married  into  some  branch  of  the  Thakombau 
family — the  descendants  of  King  Thakombau,  last  mon- 
arch of  Fiji,  under  whom  the  1874  cession  of  Fiji  to  Britain 
took  place.  Indeed,  a  suitable  lady  had  been  selected, 
and  the  Roko  was  thinking  it  over,  when  he  happened 
to  meet  Makarita,  a  girl  of  good  but  non-royal  family, 
and  a  great  beauty,  after  Fijian  fashion.     He  fell  in  love 


CONTRASTING  SCENES  105 

with  her  at  first  sight,  and  shortly  married  her,  against 
the  wishes  of  all  the  Fijian  "smart  set,"  and  the  open 
remonstrances  of  his  own  district.  The  marriage  has 
proved  a  happy  one,  and  the  "beggar  maid"  fills  her 
position  as  King  Cophetua's  partner  with  dignity  and 
grace.  I  photographed  her  in  three  costumes — ^mek6- 
meke  dress,  with  mats  and  arrowroot-fibre  kilts  wrapped 
round  her  into  something  very  like  a  crinoline,  and  cocoa- 
nut  oil  all  over  her  body ;  ordinary  day  costume  of  brown 
cashmere  (and  very  good  cashmere  at  that);  and  "best 
dress,"  composed  of  a  pink  satin  "pini"  or  tunic,  sulu 
of  white-brocaded  silk,  gold  locket  set  with  pearls,  and 
long  gold  chain.  Shoes  and  stockings,  of  course,  she  never 
wore,  and  her  thick,  stiff  hair  was  trained  upright,  clipped 
and  neatly  bevelled  off  at  the  edges,  in  native  fashion. 

The  wretched  Somo-somo  seemed  to  be  a  little  sick; 
Gideon  had  been  kicked  by  him,  and  was  rather  lame; 
Nanduri  was  exceedingly  pleasant — and  so  I  stopped 
three  days,  much  to  the  delight  of  the  men,  who  "went 
out"  a  great  deal,  in  this  fashionable  town,  and  enjoyed 
themselves  exceedingly.  There  were  card-parties,  where 
euchre  and  whist  were  played  with  furious  excitement 
from  eight  o'clock  p.  m.,  until  three  a.  m. — stakes  nothing 
but  the  glory  of  winning.  There  were  yanggona  parties, 
where  the  men  met  to  drink,  and  talk,  until  daylight  and 
paralysis  of  the  legs  (the  effect  of  excess  in  this  drink) 
set  in  together,  and  they  had  to  be  propped  up  against 
the  wall,  still  talking,  while  the  women  fed  them  with 
roasted  bananas  to  drive  away  the  effects  of  the  orgy, 
and  enable  them  to  walk  home.  There  was  a  dance  one 
night  at  a  town  two  miles  away,  which  simply  cleared  out 
Nanduri;  and  there  were  also  daylight  meke-mek^s, 
performed  for  my  amusement  by  the  boys  of  the  town. 
These  last  were  the  only  festivals  I  witnessed,  forMakarita 


io6  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

politely  warned  me  that  the  other  entertainments  were 
"no  good  for  me,"  and  I  took  the  hint,  and  remained  at 
home.  It  is  unfortunately  true  that  festivities  got  up  by 
Fijians  are  not,  as  a  rule,  possible  for  any  white  woman 
to  attend,  as  they  usually  end  in  indescribable  orgies. 

The  passion  for  card-playing  common  to  Fijians  of 
every  class  set  me  wondering  what  the  result  would  be 
if  any  one  introduced  bridge  to  the  natives  of  these 
islands.  Judging  by  what  I  know  of  them,  I  should 
suppose  that  it  would  sweep  like  a  devastating  plague 
over  the  country.  Work  would  be  at  a  standstill,  and 
sleep  and  food  would  be  taken  only  in  snatches,  while 
the  natives  gave  themselves  up  heart  and  soul  to  the  new 
game.  They  are  excellent  card-players,  and  they  know 
no  medium  in  their  amusements — witness  the  law  that 
had  to  be  passed  shortly  after  the  introduction  of  cricket 
to  the  islands,  forbidding  the  game  to  be  played  except 
on  certain  days  of  the  week,  because  the  Fijians  had 
taken  to  it  so  ardently  that  they  would  do  nothing  else. 

The  boys'  meke-mek^  was  both  pretty  and  original. 
A  number  of  very  bright  and  attractive  little  brown  lads 
dressed  themselves  up  in  white  sulus,  and  armlets  of  red 
and  white  flowers.  They  then  commenced  a  clever 
pantomime  dance,  singing  as  they  danced,  to  keep  time. 
I  was  told  that  it  was  the  "Sugar-cane  meke-meke," 
representing  the  growth  of  the  sugar-cane.  In  the  first 
figure,  they  all  squatted  low  on  the  ground,  shaking  their 
heads,  with  shut  eyes,  and  murmuring  slowly  and  softly 
an  unintelligible  sentence  that  sounded  like  "Eratchi- 
keveechi,  eratch-keveechi ! "  Gradually  they  all  stood 
up  together,  growing  taller  and  taller,  and  as  they  grew, 
they  waved  their  arms,  and  trembled  all  over  from  ankle 
to  crown,  like  the  tall  tasselled  canes  waving  in  the  wind, 
and  still  they  kept  on  chanting,  louder,  faster  with  every 


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CONTRASTING  SCENES  107 

figiire:  "  Eratchi-k^veechi,  eratchi-k^veechi ! "  There 
were  several  figures  that  I  could  not  make  out,  for  want 
of  proper  interpretation,  but  I  succeeded  in  understand- 
ing that  one  figure,  which  represented  a  series  of  hearty 
fights  (and  nearly  broke  up  the  dance,  through  the  fer- 
vour displayed  by  some  of  the  little  actors),  was  meant 
to  picture  the  exactions  of  the  chiefs,  who  compelled  the 
"  kaisi,"  willing  or  unwilling,  to  come  and  cut  their  crop. 

When  the  dance  was  over,  I  gave  the  boys  some 
biscuit  and  tinned  salmon,  and  left  them  amicably  shar- 
ing the  small  gift  with  at  least  forty  friends,  Fiji  fashion. 

Nobody  wanted  to  leave  Nanduri,  myself  least  of 
all;  but  the  Ndreketi  was  far  ahead,  and  Somo-somo 
was  well  again;  so  a  start  had  to  be  made.  Away  in 
the  slanting  early  sun  I  rode  from  the  pretty  town — 
away  from  all  comfort,  all  decent  food,  all  safe  roads, 
all  kindly  natives,  and,  apparently,  from  all  good  luck 
as  well.  I  lost  my  purse  the  first  day,  and  though  an 
honest  youth  from  a  half-caste  village  (a  curious  spot,  that 
village,  if  I  had  time  to  write  about  it),  found  and  brought 
it  back,  later  on,  the  loss  caused  delay  and  vexation 
incalculable.  Two  days'  hard  travel  it  took  to  cover  the 
thirty  miles  between  Nanduri  and  Tumba,  on  the  Ndre- 
keti. The  first  day,  Gideon  all  but  hanged  Somo-somo 
by  tethering  him  with  a  slip-knot.  The  next  day  was 
a  series  of  perils  for  the  unlucky  brute,  and  anxiety  for 
me.  If  I  had  known  all  that  lay  ahead,  assuredly  I 
would  have  sent  him  back,  and  walked,  but  the  mis- 
leading accounts  I  got  of  the  country  ahead  induced  me 
to  push  on.  There  was  no  road,  no  real  track  even.  We 
travelled  by  bare  indications  in  the  shape  of  crushed 
branches  or  trodden  grass;  smashing  through  miles  of 
liana-knotted  bush  by  the  aid  of  knives,  struggling 
through  marshes,  scrambling  up  and  down  hills  as  steep 


io8  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

as  a  house-roof,  and  slippery  as  butter,  and  worst  of  all 
— encountering  streams  every  mile  or  so.  Every  stream 
or  river  was  at  the  bottom  of  a  perpendicular  gully  with 
greasy  clay  sides,  down  which  the  protesting  horse  had  to 
be  pushed  and  dragged,  while  I  walked  over  on  a  cocoanut 
log;  some  of  them  were  deep  and  rapid,  and  many  had 
dangerous  bottoms  of  soft  clay.  And  now,  after  a  fash- 
ion that  was  exceedingly  unpleasant,  came  my  oppor- 
tunity of  learning  what  the  people  up  in  Lambasa  had 
meant  when  they  warned  me : 

"Don't  get  your  horse  bogged!" 

It  does  not  sound  very  alarming,  and  I  had  supposed 
that  "getting  bogged"  was  merely  a  case  of  floundering 
into  a  soft  bit,  a  rapid  dismount,  and  a  dirty  habit, 
while  the  horse  got  over  by  himself.  Alas!  it  was  con- 
siderably more. 

I  had  just  dismounted  to  let  the  men  lead  the  horse 
down  a  gully  that  looked  much  like  those  we  had  passed, 
and  was  scrambling  up  the  far  side,  after  crossing  on  a 
log,  when  I  heard  a  terrified  yell  from  Gideon:  "Missi 
N — ^grimshaw!  Horsie  lie  down,  by-n'-by  he  n-dead!", 
Turning  round,  I  saw  poor  Somo-somo,  having  missed 
the  jump  at  the  bottom,  plunging  and  struggling  madly 
in  the  gully,  which  was  filled  with  treacherous  mud. 
He  had  already  sunk  up  to  his  belly;  his  eyes  were  start- 
ing from  his  head,  and  he  snorted  fearfully  through  his 
dilated  nostrils,  in  the  very  extremity  of  terror.  The 
men  hauled  helplessly  on  the  reins,  screaming  at  each 
other,  and  shaking  with  nervousness ;  it  was  clear  enough 
that  they  thought  the  days  on  earth  of  the  poor  "  Flower  " 
were  ended.  They  were  perfectly  useless,  and  I  had  never 
seen  a  horse  in  such  a  plight,  and  had  not  even  heard 
what  ought  to  be  done.  The  banks  were  hopelessly 
steep;  it  was  not  far  off  dusk;  the  nearest  village  where 


CONTRASTING  SCENES  109 

help  might  be  obtained  was  two  hours  away — and  all 
the  time,  poor  Somo-somo,  whom  I  had  really  grown 
fond  of,  was  dying  a  horrible  death,  staring  wildly  at  me 
in  vain  hope  of  help,  and  breathing  now  in  long-drawn, 
painful  snores  of  agony.  ...  I  would  have  given 
twenty  pounds  for  liberty  to  sit  down  on  the  bank  and 
go  into  hysterics.  If  there  had  been  anything  human 
with  a  head  on  it  about,  I  certainly  should  have  done  so, 
for  the  sight  was  indescribably  painful,  and  the  feeling 
of  helplessness  still  worse.  But  my  three  men  were 
three  children  of  Nature,  which  meant  three  useless 
babies  in  trouble  of  any  kind,  and  Somo-somo 's  life 
hung  on  me. 

I  told  one  of  them  to  take  a  stick  at  once,  and  test 
the  depth  of  the  mud.  The  horse  had  now  sunk  to 
half-way  up  the  chest.  Fortunately,  the  test  revealed 
that  he  had  touched  bottom,  and  would  go  no  further. 
The  danger,  however,  was  none  the  less,  I  knew  that  he 
might  struggle  himself  to  death,  and  guessed  that  his 
head  would  sink  when  he  became  exhausted.  As  for 
the  men,  they  were  squatting  down  to  their  eternal 
cigarettes,  quite  prepared  to  watch  the  horse  die,  and, 
with  true  savage  cruelty,  to  laugh  over  its  expiring 
struggles  as  an  excellent  show. 

"Horsie  he  n-dead,  by-n'-by,"  was  all  the  answer 
I  got  to  my  orders,  when  I  told  them  to  get  up  and  try 
to  help. 

.  .  .  Then  I  lost  my  manners.  It  does  not  matter 
what  I  said.  There  is  a  kind  of  English  that  every 
Fijian  understands  and  obeys.  I  gave  them  that  English, 
reproducing  it  phonographically  from  my  recollections 
of  the  sort  of  thing  the  South  Sea  Islander  mates  used  to 
say  to  the  cargo-workers  on  the  quays.  I  missed  the 
real  style  of  it,  no  doubt,  but  what  I  gave  them  was  the 


no  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

best  I  could  do,  for  a  first  attempt,  and  it  seemed  to 
touch  the  spot.     They  got  up  and  went  to  work. 

I  told  them  to  haul  on  the  head-rope,  and  lift  the 
horse's  quarters  with  saplings.  I  made  them  cut  down 
a  considerable  section  of  bush,  and  fling  it  wholesale  in 
front  of  the  poor  "Flower."  I  compelled  them  to  batter 
down  the  perpendicular  bank  of  solid  clay,  and  cast  it 
on  to  the  sticks  and  boughs,  at  the  same  time  making  a 
practicable  exit.  I  worked  them  like  mules  for  over  an 
hour,  and  scolded  like  a  turkey-hen  all  the  time.  At  the 
last,  a  piece  of  fairly  solid  standing-ground  was  manu- 
factured, and  Somo-somo,  filthy,  exhausted,  terrified  and 
trembling,  gpt  out  with  one  final  struggle,  and  stood  on 
the  bank,  swaying  on  his  feet,  and  looking  like  death. 
But  he  was  saved. 

There  was  a  long  walk  through  the  twilight  and 
the  dark  then,  and  a  big,  unseen  river — the  Ndreketi 
at  last — -to  cross  in  the  starlight,  carried  almost  on  the 
necks  of  men  who  were  walking  shoulder-deep.  In  a 
strange,  dim  valley,  half  a  dozen  natives  started  up  out 
of  nowhere,  and  offered  me  food — bananas,  cocoanuts, 
odd  little  packets  of  porridge,  made  from  ndalo  roots, 
sugar-cane,  and  cocoanut  cream,  tied  up  in  green  leaves. 
I  took  it  thankfully,  and  Somo-somo,  who  had  been 
walking  behind  me,  relieved  any  fears  I  might  have 
had  about  his  recovery  from  the  late  accident,  by  sud- 
denly projecting  a  yard  or  two  of  dirty  neck  over  my 
shoulder,  and  grabbing  the  biggest  packet  of  porridge 
for  himself.  He  was  always  well  fed  under  my  care, 
but  his  manners,  none  the  less,  were  those  of  a  shameless 
buccaneer. 

The  welcome  sound  of  a  white  man's  voice,  calling 
out  of  one  of  the  endless  gullies,  told  me  at  last  that  I  had 
reached  the  neighbourhood  of  the  little  settlement   I 


CONTRASTING  SCENES  m 

had  been  aiming  for  since  I  left  Nanduri  two  days  before. 
In  another  half-hour,  I  was  enjoying  a  real  meal  at  a 
real  table,  in  the  smallest  and  cosiest  of  the  three  "  white  " 
houses  that,  together  with  a  sawmill  and  its  buildings, 
formed  the  settlement  of  Tumba. 

Here,  as  everywhere  else  in  Fiji,  I  met  with  the  kind- 
est and  most  ungrudging  hospitality.  The  white  settlers 
of  the  Fijis  are  surely  the  most  hospitable  people  in  the 
world.  A  dirty,  untidy  hungry  stranger  suddenly  ap- 
pearing from  the  wilderness  is  welcomed  as  a  long- 
invited  guest,  given  the  best  of  everything,  almost  fought 
over  by  several  eager  hosts,  and  pressed  to  stay  as  long 
as  possible.  His  entertainers  apologise  for  not  being 
able  to  feed  him  on  every  civilised  dainty  known  to  Suva 
or  Levuka,  and  hope  he  can  put  up  with  a  room  that  is 
furnished  less  luxuriously  than  the  guest-chambers  of  a 
big  hotel.  They  neglect  their  business  to  ''show  him 
round,"  press  gifts  of  curios,  plants,  shells,  etc.,  upon  him 
when  he  is  leaving,  and  send  him  away  with  a  hearty 
God-speed  and  a  hope  that  he  will  come  back  again  soon. 

And  the  return  for  all  this?  Read  most  of  the  books 
of  travel  that  have  been  written  on  the  Fijis,  or  other 
islands.  Note  the  sneers  at  rough  accommodation  and 
primitive  living;  the  unkindly  fun  poked  at  people  who 
have,  perhaps,  dropped  a  few  of  the  customs  of  great 
capitals;  the  "paying  off  scores"  against  generous  hosts 
who  have  managed  in  some  way  to  incur  the  wrath  of 
consideration-loving  guests — and  wonder  then,  as  I 
wondered,  that  island  hospitality  should  still  be  what  it 
is.  A  Fijian  who  eats  and  rests  under  the  roof  of  another 
regards  such  hospitality  as  a  sacred  claim,  to  be  liberally 
repaid  in  kind  if  opportunity  should  arise.  A  white 
man  takes  all  he  can  get,  and  laughs  at  his  entertainers ; 
would  not  dream  of  "  knowing  them  at  home,"  if  he  should 


112  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

ever  meet  them  there;  and  regards  the  sacredness  of 
the  eaten  bread  as  a  fancy  only  fit  for  savages.  Truly, 
we  do  not  seem  to  send  our  best  a-voyaging  in  strange 
countries. 

The  timber  industry  was  what  I  had  come  up  to 
he  Ndreketi  to  see,  and  exceedingly  interesting  I  found 
it.  There  are  no  woods  in  the  world  more  beautiful  and 
valuable  than  the  woods  of  Fiji,  athough  want  of  capital, 
and,  to  some  extent,  v/ant  of  enterprise,  has  prevented 
their  becoming  widely  known.  "Bua-bua,"  the  box- 
wood of  the  Pacific,  is  vey  common,  and  grows  to  an 
immense  size.  It  weighs  80  pounds  to  the  cubic  foot,  is 
very  hard,  and  most  durable.  The  "cevua,"  or  bastard 
sandalwood — a  strong-scented,  very  durable  wood — 
grows  freely,  in  logs  one  foot  and  two  feet  in  diameter; 
and  the  real  sandalwood  is  also  found,  though  not  plenti- 
fully. Another  useful  wood  is  "vesi,"  which  grows  two 
and  three  feet  in  diameter.  It  is  much  like  teak,  hard, 
heavy,  and  extremely  lasting  in  the  ground  or  out  of 
doors;  it  is  also  rich-coloured  and  very  easily  polished. 
The  "  dakua"  is  one  of  the  most  valuable  woods;  it  much 
resembles  the  New  Zealand  kauri  pine,  and  grows  to  a 
large  size,  sometimes  six  and  seven  feet  in  diameter.  It 
contains  a  great  deal  of  gum,  and  quantities  of  this  can  be 
taken  out  of  the  ground  wherever  a  tree  has  been.  The 
timber  is  useful  for  almost  any  purpose.  The  "yaka" 
might  be  called  the  rosewood  of  the  Pacific,  if  it  did  not 
also,  in  some  degree,  resemble  mahogany.  It  is  a  wood 
of  the  greatest  beauty,  being  exquisitely  marked  and 
veined,  and  taking  a  high  polish.  This  is  a  wood  that 
certainly  should  be  known  to  cabinet-makers,  and  no 
doubt  will  be  later  on.  The  "savairabunidamu,"  a 
curious  dark-red  wood,  is  extraordinarily  tough,  and 
can  be  steamed  and  bent  to  almost  any  shape — a  valuable 


CONTRASTING  SCENES  113 

quality.  The  "bau  vundi"  is  a  kind  of  cedar,  very 
workable,  and  most  lasting.  A  singularly  beautiful 
timber  is  the  "bau  ndina,"  which  is  deep  rose-red  in 
colour,  tough  and  firm,  and  suitable  for  engravers'  use. 
Besides  these,  there  are  more  than  sixty  varieties  of 
other  woods,  all  useful  or  beautiful,  and  most  to  be 
found  in  great  profusion.  The  quantities  available 
are  very  large;  a  great  proportion  of  Vanua  Levu  and 
Viti  Levu,  and  nearly  the  whole  of  many  outlying  islands, 
is  covered  with  dense  forest,  untouched  so  far,  except 
in  two  places — the  small  island  of  Ngeo,  and  the  lower 
Ndreketi  River,  where  sawmills  have  been  established. 
It  was  the  latter  place  that  I  visited.  The  upper  reaches 
of  the  Ndreketi  are  untouched,  and  there  is  valuable 
timber  along  the  course  of  almost  every  Fijian  river, 
within  easy  reach  of  rafts  and  steamers. 

At  Tumba  Mills,  most  of  the  timber  is  obtained  from 
the  forest  eight  miles  farther  up  the  river.  I  journeyed 
up  the  Ndreketi  in  a  boat  one  day,  to  see  the  timber 
cutting,  being  conyeyed  by  four  natives  from  the  mill, 
and  attended  by  Gideon,  who  acted  the  distinguished 
stranger,  lounging  on  the  seats,  and  entertaining  the 
rowers  with  long  tales  and  many  boastings.  By  this 
time  I  had  learned  a  good  deal  more  Fijian  than  Gideon 
supposed  me  to  possess,  and  I  could  understand  some- 
thing of  what  he  said.  One  long  serial  story  that  oc- 
cupied nearly  an  hour,  and  was  listened  to  with  the 
deepest  attention  and  interest,  excited  my  curiosity, 
after  a  while,  and  I  tried  to  make  it  out.  ...  It 
was  neither  more  nor  less  than  an  exact  inventory  of 
everything  we  had  had  to  eat  since  we  left  Lambasa! 

"On  Monday,"  it  ran,  "we  had  lots  of  yam,  and 
rice  with  sugar,  and  tea,  and  four  biscuits  each,  at  the 
magistrate's,  before  we  started.     And  on  the  way,  there 


114  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

were  some  oranges;  and  Rubeni  got  a  lot  of  cooked 
chestnuts  from  some  people  we  met.  Then,  by-and-by, 
the  marama  had  lemons  and  water  at  a  stream,  and  I 
got  the  sugar  she  left  in  the  cup,  to  eat.  There  was  a 
good  town  presently,  where  the  Turanga  ni  Koro  had 
killed  a  pig,  and  we  ate  most  of  it,  but  the  marama  had 
tinned  meat,  because  she  said  the  pig  was  sick  when  it 
was  killed.  What  did  that  matter?  At  Tambia,  where 
we  slept,  we  got  two  plates  of  crayfish,  and  yam,  and  a 
cup  of  tea  the  marama  didn't  finish.  We  stayed  three 
days  at  Nanduri,  and  that  was  good,  for  the  first  day  we 
had  two  boiled  fowls  among  us,  and  yam,  and  ndalo, 
when  we  came  in;  and  next  morning  there  was  broken 
biscuit  the  marama  left,  and  the  end  of  a  tin  of  jam, 
before  breakfast ;  and  for  breakfast     .     .     ." 

So  it  went  on,  day  after  day,  disposing  of  Vanua 
Levu  first,  and  then  going  back  into  the  history  of  the 
journey  through  Viti  Levu,  six  weeks  before — a  mar- 
vellous feat  of  memory,  and  a  most  curious  enlightenment 
on  certain  points  of  native  character.  I  enjoyed  the 
odd  exhibition  very  much,  until  a  sudden  recollection 
sprang  up  among  the  tangled  oddments  of  three  years' 
travel,  and  brought  to  my  mind  a  conversation  I  had 
heard  between  two  highly  educated  and  greatly  travelled 
white  men,  on  the  smartest  of  the  Cunard  liners: 

"Milan?  yes,   they  do   you  very  v/ell  there,   if   you 

know  where  to  go,  but  if  you  don't However,  the 

Hotel makes  up  for  everything.     We  got  real  English 

food  there,  the  genuine  article,  beefsteaks  not  scorched 
or  stewed,  good  bacon  and  eggs,  excellent  joints  and 
puddings — ^what  does  one  want  more?  We  stopped 
over  at  Marseilles.  Try  the  bouillabaisse  there — do,  old 
man!  0ver=3stimated?  Not  a  bit.  Couldn't  bel  Last 
time  I  went  by  the  Mediterranean  route,  we  found  time 


CONTRASTING  SCENES  115 

to  run  up  to  Venice,  but  you  won't  catch  me  there  again. 
Look  what  they  charge  you  for  soda-water!  and  at  the 

Z Hotel,  where  there  is  food  fit  to  eat,  the  drains  are 

murderous;  while  the  Y gives  you  oil  in  everything, 

and  makes  soup  out  of  the  roasts.   No  more  Venice  for  me !" 

.  .  .  Was  there  much  to  choose,  after  all,  between 
the  Fijian  and  the  Briton? 

The  forest,  or  "bush,"  when  we  reached  it,  was 
delightfully  dim  and  cool,  after  the  glare  of  the  river. 
A  rough  "skid  road,"  crossed  over  with  logs,  had  been 
cut  through  it  down  to  a  cliff  above  the  river,  over 
which  the  timber  was  slid  into  the  water.  Teams  of  ten 
to  sixteen  bullocks  hauled  each  log  from  its  home  in  the 
forest  to  the  river  highway,  and  once  in  the  water,  the 
timber  was  floated  or  rafted,  according  to  its  weight, 
down  to  Tumba  Mill. 

The  "bush"  here  has  very  few  flowers.  There  is 
little  light  under  the  overarching  roof  of  lofty  boughs, 
where  the  sun  comes  only  as  a  thin  trickle  of  stray  beams, 
sifted  through  the  canopy  of  close-set  green.  Orchids 
are  found  at  times;  and  I  heard  rumours  of  strange, 
rare  blossoms,  unknown  to  botanists,  appearing  here, 
and  in  Taviuni,  a  great  island  not  far  from  Vanua  Levu. 
(It  may  interest  men  of  science  to  know  that  in  Septem- 
ber, 1904,  some  white  settlers  in  the  latter  island  found 
a  single  specimen  of  a  flower  never  seen  there  before — 
a  huge  single  blossom,  shaped  like  a  vase,  and  larger 
across  the  top  than  an  ordinary  soup-plate.  It  grew 
close  to  the  ground,  had  apparently  no  leaves,  and  was 
very  much  ruffled  and  fluted  at  the  edge.  The  colour 
was  a  grayish-lilac,  with  a  large,  dark-brown,  cone-shaped 
pistil  in  the  centre.) 

" .  .  .  Oh,  the  wonders  of  a  tropical  forest !  the 
tough  lianas  that  barred  our  way  at  every  step,  and 


Ti6  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

had  to  be  slowly  and  painfully  hacked  through — the 
brilliant  honey-birds  hanging  like  living  gems  on  the  rich 
blossoms — the  marvellous  chameleons,  three  feet  long, 
that  crept  sullenly  away  at  our  steps,  changing  colours 
as  they  went !  We  could  hear  the  fierce,  wild  boars  and 
dangerous  wild  cats  crashing  their  way  among  the 
thickets  not  far  off;  myriads  of  beautiful  birds  darted 
through  the  air;  serpents  and  centipedes  crept  at  our 
feet,  and  formidable  ticks  let  themselves  down  from 
overhanging  boughs,  and  buried  their  jaws,  through  all 
our  clothes,   in  our  flesh.     .     .     ." 

The  above,  I  know  very  well,  is  what  the  reader 
expects,  when  hearing  about  tropical  forests;  so  I  have 
done  my  best  to  write  the  kind  of  thing  that  is  popular. 
It  will  out,  however.  I  didn't  see  all  those  things — 
though  they  were  undoubtedly  there,  and  I  suppose, 
therefore,  I  ought  to  have  seen  them.  Stanley  would 
have  seen  them;  so  would  Burton  or  Livingstone,  or  any 
decent  traveller.  The  wild  boars  and  cats  would  have 
come  up  to  call  on  him  at  once,  instead  of  keeping  ten 
miles  away:  the  snakes  (harmless  all)  and  chameleons 
would  have  come  out  of  their  holes,  and  off  their  high 
branches,  and  sat  in  his  lap,  or  he'd  have  known  the  rea- 
son why.  Even  the  ticks  would  have  shown  their  ugly 
faces,  and  submitted  to  be  photographed,  like  criminals 
in  jail.  But  as  for  me,  all  I  saw  was  a  flight  of  parrots, 
gorgeous  green  and  blue,  with  red  necks,  squawking  away 
across  a  clearing,  and  a  nest  of  wood  centipedes — hideous, 
ill-smelling  creatures,  the  size  and  shape  of  large  sausages 
— on  which  I  nearly  trod.  It  would  not  have  mattered 
if  I  had,  as  they  were  not  the  active,  biting  kind,,  but  the 
sluggish  sort  that  is  only  dangerous  to  a  bare  foot  or  hand, 
which  they  burn  as  if  with  carbolic  acid  wherever  the 
skin  touches.     These  loathsome  creatures  must  live  in 


CONTRASTING  SCENES  117 

the  shade;  the  sun  is  fatal  to  them.  If  a  wood  centipede 
stays  out  too  late  at  night,  and  is  caught  by  the  morning 
sun  while  crossing  some  unshaded  bush  track  on  his  way 
home,  he  dies  at  once,  and  leaves  his  corpse  rotting  in  the 
cruel  rays,  as  a  warning  to  all  won 't-go-home-t ill-morning 
bush  people. 

Venomous  centipedes  are  met  with  in  Fiji,  but  they 
are  not  very  common,  and  their  bite  is  more  painful  than 
dangerous.  I  have  found  them  under  my  bed,  and  about 
the  bathroom,  in  Suva  houses — ugly  beasts  seven  or  eight 
inches  long,  black,  with  red  legs  and  feelers,  horribly 
active,  and  very  ready  to  bite  if  touched — ^but  I  never 
saw  them  in  the  bush.  The  only  scorpion  I  saw  in  Fiji 
came  out  of  one  of  my  own  trunks;  it  was  about  three 
inches  long,  and  I  shook  it  out  of  a  nightdress  just  as  I 
was  going  to  put  that  garment  on.  I  saw  one  tick,  hang- 
ing on  my  horse's  neck,  as  I  rode  back  to  Lambasa  from 
the  Ndreketi.  The  wonderful  stick  insects  of  Fiji,  familiar 
in  all  home  museums,  are  found  on  nearly  every  cocoanut- 
tree.  They  are  very  ill-smelling,  and  squirt  a  fetid  fluid 
at  one's  eyes,  if  handled.  Leaf  insects  I  never  saw,  except 
when  the  natives  caught  and  brought  them  to  me,  but 
all  the  guava-bushes  have  them,  although  a  white  man's 
eye  can  seldom  distinguish  them  from  their  shelter.  They 
are  most  miraculous  and  uncanny  creatures,  absolutely 
leaves  endowed  with  the  power  of  motion,  so  far  as  the 
most  scrutinising  eye  can  see — for  even  their  legs  and 
heads  are  a  precise  copy  of  stalks  and  small  leaflets. 
Honey-birds — dainty  little  black-and-white  creatures  that 
hang  on  the  scarlet  hibiscus  blossoms,  and  dip  their  beaks 
into  the  honey- vessel  of  the  flower — I  only  saw  about  the 
suburbs  of  Suva;  and  wild  boars,  cats,  fowls,  goats,  or 
cattle  I  never  got  a  glimpse  of  anywhere.  This  is  not 
what  is  expected  of  a  traveller,  I  know,  and  I  humbly 


ii8  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

apologise  for  my  deficiencies,  offering  only  the  excuse  that, 
like  George  Washington,  I  cannot  tell  a  lie,  even  when 
I  ought. 

A  white  man  cannot,  as  a  rule,  find  his  way  about 
the  Fijian  bush,  but  a  native  is  never  at  a  loss,  even  if  he 
is  new  to  that  part  of  the  country.  He  will  slash  his  way 
through,  with  the  heavy  knife  he  uses  so  cleverly,  at  an 
easy  two  miles  an  hour,  and  he  will  never  be  at  a  loss  for 
food  and  drink,  even  though  the  cocoanut  palm  is  absent 
from  the  forests  of  the  interior.  If  there  are  no  streams, 
there  is  a  thick  ropy  liana  which  oozes  good  water  when 
cut;  and  eatables  are  never  wanting.  Almost  every- 
where, the  flat,  arrowy  leaves  of  a  certain  trailing  vine 
advertise  the  presence  of  plump  yams  underground; 
wild  potatoes  are  also  found,  and  several  other  excellent 
roots — among  the  best  being  the  sugary  root  of  a  tall 
thin  shrub,  conspicuous  enough  for  even  a  white  man  to 
see  at  once.  There  are  also  plenty  of  chestnuts,  and  one 
or  two  kinds  of  berry.  It  is  small  wonder  that,  in  a 
country  such  as  this,  the  native  should  be  accused  of 
indolence  and  want  of  enterprise.  If  the  roadsides  and 
commons  of  England  grew  roasts  of  beef  and  loaves  of 
bread  (yams,  potatoes  and  chestnuts  being  fair  equiva- 
lents of  these,  for  a  Fijian),  we  might  find  less  industry 
among  our  own  working  classes.  And  certainly,  if  every 
man  owned  or  shared  enough  acres  of  land  to  make  him 
independent  of  outside  employment  (as  is  the  case  with 
nearly  all  Pacific  islanders),  most  people  would  think 
as  little  about  the  "sacred  dignity  of  labour" — for  some 
one  else,  at  some  one  else's  starvation  prices — as  does 
the  provoking  Fijian  of  to-day,  who  will  not  go  and 
improve  his  mind  by  toiling  twelve  hours  a  day  in  a 
big  company's  plantation,  for  money  that  he  doesn't 
particularly  want. 


:^ 

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1 

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j.^ 

V   . 

a^yLjjk 

^^^^^^|^B^'<^«.S|^^Sl^^^B^^M|^^^MBHflflrii^^^^l^^^^B 

CONTRASTING  SCENES  119 

Land  cleared  from  bush,  about  the  Ndreketi,  is  said 
to  be  extremely  suitable  for  cocoa  planting.  There  is 
also  a  good  deal  of  naturally  cleared  land  available. 

Returning  from  up-river,  I  spent  a  pleasant  day  or 
two  "loafing"  about  Tumba,  watching  the  little  steamer 
from  Suva  coming  up  to  ship  timber,  and  seeing  the  big 
dakua  logs  run  through  the  mill.  The  steamer  is  about 
180  tons,  and  could  go  at  least  eight  miles  further  up  than 
she  has  any  occasion  to  do  at  present,  since  the  river, 
though  not  very  wide,  is  extremely  deep. 


CHAPTER  VII 

INDUSTRIAL  SURPRISES 

At  the  Back  of  Beyond — The  Last  of  the  Cannibals — A 
Pleasant  Old  Devil — The  Plague  of  Fleas — When 
Gideon  went  Wild — Nanduri  once  more — The  Vanilla 
Planters — Cattle-ranching  in  Fiji 

THE  Ndreketi,  or,  more  correctly,  the  Senganga 
district,  is  truly  the  "back  of  beyond."  Here,  in 
the  dense  forests,  and  the  lonely,  little-known  bush  vil- 
lages, traces  of  heathenism  still  lurk  concealed,  in  spite  of 
the  fact  that  all  the  natives  of  the  district  are  nominally 
Christian,  and  attend  Sunday  church,  conducted  by  a 
native  teacher,  with  praiseworthy  perseverance.  The 
"luveni  wai"  worship,  though  persistently  combated  by 
the  Government,  has  never  yet  been  fairly  uprooted. 
This,  so  far  as  I  could  ascertain,  is  a  strange  mixture  of 
heathen  "miracle  play,"  devil-worship,  and  murder. 
The  natives  taking  part  in  it  work  themselves  up  to  an 
extraordinary  pitch  of  frenzy,  during  which  one  of  them 
becomes  filled  with  the  spirit  of  a  god,  and  declares  him- 
self to  be  invulnerable  and  immortal.  During  my  stay 
in  Fiji,  a  case  of  attempted  murder  was  tried  in  Suva, 
which  rose  directly  out  of  the  "luveni  wai,"  as  practised 
in  the  Senganga  district.  One  man  threw  a  spear  at 
another,  to  prove  that  the  latter  was  really  a  god  come 
down  from  heaven,  and  therefore  immortal.  The  "god," 
however,  came  off  second  best,  being  badly  wounded,  and 
crippled  for  life,  by  the  spear.     The  other  was  sentenced 


122  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

to  several  years'  imprisonment,  as,  apart  from  such 
accidents,  it  is  illegal  to  perform  the  "  luveni  wai "  at  all. 

"  Tembe-tembe "  worship,  which  is  devil-worship 
pure  and  simple,  is  known  to  exist,  although  carefully 
concealed,  about  the  Ndreketi.  There  were  one  or  two 
men  about  Timiba  who  enjoyed  the  reputation  of  being 
devil-priests  on  the  sly.  One  interesting  character,  who 
was  always  hanging  about  the  house,  was  known  as  Tha 
Levu  (Bad  Lot).  He  is  a  hereditary  devil-priest,  and  is 
sometimes  suspected  of  following  his  ancestors'  footsteps, 
though  this  may  be  mere  slander. 

He  is  a  very  clever  and  civilised  personage,  with  an 
excellent  English  education,  acquired  during  a  term  of 
eight  years'  penal  servitude  in  Suva,  which  he  has  not 
long  completed.  In  1894,  there  was  a  cannibal  outbreak 
within  a  couple  of  miles  of  the  place  I  visited.  A  chief 
who  had  been  oppressing  the  people  was  murdered  and 
eaten,  with  all  the  ancient  reUgious  rites,  by  Tha  Levu 
and  two  other  men.  The  others  were  supposed  to  have 
influenced  Tha  Levu,  who  was  only  a  young  man  at  the 
time,  so  he  was  let  off  with  eight  years'  imprisonment, 
while  his  companions  were  hanged.  He  has  now  been 
back  in  his  native  village  for  a  year  or  two,  and  is  a  per- 
son of  considerable  importance,  much  admired  by  his 
neighbours.  On  one  occasion,  while  I  was  passing 
through  the  village,  it  came  on  to  rain,  and  Tha  Levu 
politely  asked  me  to  shelter  in  his  house.  I  went  in,  and 
was  entertained  with  courteous  English  conversation,  and 
photographs  of  Government  House  dignitaries.  Sub- 
sequently, Gideon,  who  was  a  perfect  sieve  of  gossip  and 
chatter,  informed  me  with  sly  giggles  that  Tha  Levu  was 
"plenty  good  man,  plenty  big  man!"  and  that  he  had 
told  my  men  all  about  the  cannibal  feast;  said  it  was 
first-class  fun  (as  far  as  I  could  understand) ,  and  that  he 


OF  THE 

NIVERSi 

OF 


INDUSTRIAL  SURPRISES  123 

only  wished  he  had  a  chance  of  doing  it  all  again !  It  was 
perfectly  obvious  that  Gideon  and  the  others  admired 
him  immensely,  and  considered  him  the  biggest  hero 
they  had  ever  met.  I  told  Tha  Levu  that  I  thought  his 
name  fitted  him  to  a  hair,  and  that  I  would  tike  to  take 
his  photograph  to  send  home  to  England  as  the  biggest 
villain  in  Fiji.  Mr.  "Bad  Lot"  grinned  delightedly,  and 
at  once  dressed  up  his  head  with  a  huge  yellow  allamanda 
flower,  to  do  the  occasion  justice.  I  photographed  him 
as  he  stood,  and  hope  the  English-speaking  public  will 
admire  him  half  as  much  as  he  obviously  admired  himself. 

I  much  preferred  a  pleasant  elderly  gentleman  from 
across  the  river,  who  came  up  to  call  one  day,  dressed 
in  a  nice  white  shirt  and  a  heliotrope  velveteen  sulu, 
and  told  us  conversationally  that  he  was  a  "tevoro,"  or 
devil.  He  seemed  rather  a  superior  sort  of  devil,  on  the 
whole;  if  he  had  horns,  they  were  hidden  in  his  stiff, 
upright  hair,  and  his  tail  was  certainly  not  visible.  Being 
a  devil,  he  told  us,  he  had  power  over  certain  other  devils, 
among  them,  the  demons  who  governed  fleas,  centipedes, 
beetles  and  other  objectionable  creatures.  He  had  heard 
that  my  host  was  looking  for  him  (which  was  true) ,  to  ask 
his  advice  about  the  plague  of  fleas  that  made  the  house 
almost  uninhabitable;  so  he  had  come  across  the  river, 
and  would  be  glad  to  do  anything  in  his  power,  because 
the  white  man  had  often  employed  his  wife  to  do  washing, 
and  had  paid  her  well. 

What  could  he  do?  we  asked. 

Well,  said  the  kindly  devil,  he  could  drive  away  all 
the  fleas  for  us,  for  they  were  bound  to  obey  him  as  their 
master;  and  he  would  do  it  at  once,  if  we  liked.  But 
we  must  first  assure  him  that  we  believed  in  this  power. 
If  we  disbelieved,  it  would  paralyse  him,  and  he  could  not 
work.     No  one  else  had  the  power  but  himself.     Any 


124  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

man  could  do  the  simple  things  he  was  going  to  do ;  but, 
except  in  his  hands,  they  would  have  no  effect ;  and  even 
he  could  not  make  them  effective,  if  he  was  not  helped 
by  our  belief. 

We  all  assured  him  that  we  did  believe  in  his  power — 
truthfully  enough,  for  we  had  heard  of  his  performances 
before  this,  and  knew  that,  however  he  had  done  it,  he 
had  driven  away  the  fleas  most  successfully  and  per- 
manently from  the  house  of  the  junior  partner  a  year 
earlier. 

The  "tevoro,"  thus  reassured,  called  up  Gideon,  and 
told  him  to  help  him  in  moving  all  the  furniture  clear  of 
the  walls.  Gideon,  gray  with  fright,  and  shaking  all 
over,  obeyed  him,  and  then  bolted  straight  out  of  the 
house  to  hide  himself  in  the  cowshed.  The  "tevoro" 
went  into  the  yard,  picked  up  a  common  piece  of  bamboo, 
and  lit  the  end  of  it.  He  then  returned  to  the  house,  and 
walked  three  times  round  every  room,  close  to  the  wall, 
keeping  his  body  bent  double,  and  holding  the  burning 
end  of  the  bamboo  about  a  foot  from  the  line  where  the 
reed-work  walls  joined  the  earthen  floor.  All  the  time, 
he  muttered  softly  to  himself  in  Fijian.  My  host,  though 
a  good  Fijian  scholar,  could  not  understand  what  he  said. 

Every  time  he  passed  one  of  the  two  doors,  he  went 
out  into  the  yard,  and  snuffed  the  end  of  the  bamboo  on 
the  ground,  afterward  making  a  neat  little  dirt-pie  of 
the  snufflngs,  and  leaving  it  on  the  earth.  The  whole 
ceremony  did  not  take  more  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 
At  the  end,  he  stood  up,  and  told  us: 

That  the  fleas  would  all  go  away. 

That  they  would  not  all  go  at  once;  some  would  go 
that  night,  and  the  rest  to-morrow.  (A  rather  notable 
point,  I  thought.) 

That  they  would  not  come  back. 


INDUSTRIAL  SURPRISES  125 

That  we  might  never  trust  him  again,  if  all  this  was 
not  true. 

Then  he  accepted  a  present  of  a  shilling  and  some 
tobacco,  and  went  smiling  away.  I  never  saw  the  ami- 
able "tevoro"  again;  but  he  was  certainly  a  nice  old 
devil. 

All  that  he  had  promised  came  true.  That  night,  the 
fleas  were  much  less  annoying  than  before,  and  the  baby, 
which  had  been  enjoying  very  broken  rest,  slept  better. 
Next  night  there  was  not  a  flea  in  the  place,  and  the  poor 
baby's  little  bald  head,  which  had  always  been  spotted 
as  if  with  measles  every  morning,  was  white  and  smooth 
again.  If  we  grown-ups  had  been  "suggested"  into 
thinking  there  were  no  fleas  about,  the  baby,  at  all  events, 
could  not  have  been  influenced,  nor  could  we  have  been 
mistaken  in  the  marks. 

There  was  nothing  in  the  bamboo  to  drive  away  the 
fleas,  for  it  was  picked  up  in  the  yard,  just  as  it  lay ;  nor 
are  these  active  creatures  so  easily  alarmed  as  to  be  driven 
away  by  the  sight  of  a  little  flame.  Furthermore,  if  by 
any  sleight-of-hand  some  native  drug  had  been  used,  it 
would  have  taken  effect  at  once,  and  not  driven  the  invad- 
ing armies  out  in  sections  as  the  "devil's"  proceedings 
certainly  did.  I  leave  the  problem  to  other  heads  to 
solve,  confessing  that  I  find  it  insoluble  myself. 

It  was  time  now  to  be  making  my  way  back  again  to 
Lambasa,  for  the  Suva  steamer  would  soon  be  due  there. 
But  an  unexpected  obstacle  arose.  Tha  Levu's  society, 
and  (I  suspected)  the  influence  of  certain  midnight 
gatherings  in  the  forest,  where  the  Wesleyan  religion  was 
considerably  at  a  discount,  had  gone  completely  to 
Gideon's  head,  and  he  was  getting  beyond  control.  A 
more  curious  jump-back  toward  the  primitive  type  I  had 
never    seen.     My    civilised,    obliging,    English-speaking 


126  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

courier,  with  the  bright,  inteUigent  face  and  sunny  smile, 
had  utterly  disappeared,  and  in  his  place  I  had  a  slouching 
young  savage,  sullen,  disrespectful,  and  careless,  with  a 
flattened,  stupid  face,  unlit  by  any  spark  of  good-humour. 
He  took  no  care  of  my  belongings,  transmitted  my  orders 
incorrectly  to  the  men,  and  disappeared  for  hours  at  the 
time  when  he  was  most  wanted.  This  could  not  go  on. 
I  did  not  wish  to  go  back  to  Lambasa  without  an  inter- 
preter, as  I  knew  too  little  Fijian  to  get  along  comfortably ; 
but  I  made  up  my  mind  to  give  Gideon  a  lesson.  The 
white  men  of  the  settlement  became  interested  in  my 
dilemma,  and  offered  to  "talk  to  him"  for  me;  but  I 
knew  that  any  such  delegation  of  authority  would  only 
make  matters  worse.  So  I  waited  until  he  slouched  up 
to  the  cook-house  one  morning,  insolently  late  for  some- 
thing I  wanted  him  to  do,  and  began  my  sermon.  .  .  . 
It  does  not  much  matter  what  I  said.  It  was  picturesque, 
and  there  was  a  great  deal  of  it,  dealing  mostly  with  the 
lofty  eminence  of  my  own  position  in  life,  the  many  great 
deeds  which  I  had  (not)  performed,  and  the  horrible 
things  I  did  to  people  who  offended  me.  I  ran  rapidly 
over  the  weak  points  in  his  own  career,  vilified  his 
ancestry,  and  suggested  that  it  would  be  gross  flattery  to 
describe  him  as  food  for  cannibals  himself.  I  told  him 
that  he  was  to  leave  my  service  that  instant,  and  pictured 
briefly  but  vividly  the  crawling  ignominy  of  his  solitary 
return  to  Lambasa.  By  this  time,  my  big  Fijian  was 
crying  loudly  into  the  chopped  cocoanut  prepared  for 
curry,  and  knuckling  his  wet  eyes  with  his  huge  black 
fingers.  I  told  him  that  I  did  not  care  if  he  cried  himself 
dead;  that  he  did  not  belong  to  me  any  more,  and,  in 
fine,  that  he  was  to  go  at  once,  and  never  let  me  see  him 
again. 

"Where    I    going,    Missi   N'grimshaw?"   sobbed    the 


INDUSTRIAL  SURPRISES  127 

forlorn  creature .  I  made  the  obvious  reply .  It  convinced 
him  that  I  was  in  earnest,  and,  rejecting  the  small  pile  of 
gold  coins,  representing  his  wages  up  to  date,  that  I  tried 
to  hand  him,  he  trailed  out  of  the  house,  and  collapsed 
in  a  miserable  heap  near  the  veranda.  All  day  long  he 
sat  there,  asking  me,  whenever  I  passed:  "Missi  N'grim- 
shaw!  'S  all  right?"  and  receiving  the  same  invariable 
answer:  "No!  go  away."  His  anguish  of  mind  rose  to 
full  height  when,  later  on,  I  went  down  to  the  river,  and 
on  board  the  timber-carrying  steamer  for  afternoon  tea. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  I  was  going  away  at  once  to  regions 
unknown,  and  he  hovered  about  the  bank,  his  face  lined 
and  drawn  with  despair.  This  tour  had  been  the  glory 
of  his  life,  and  he  could  not  face  the  disgrace  of  being  cast 
down  before  all  Vanua  Levu,  after  all  his  boasting  and 
peacocking.  A  Fijian's  grief  is  like  a  child's — absolute 
and  intense  for  the  moment,  and  rejecting  all  thought  of 
consolation — and,  moreover,  his  vanity  is  the  very 
weakest  spot  in  his  armour.  Small  wonder,  then,  that 
the  culprit's  wretched,  anxious,  tear-swollen  face  almost 
softened  my  unkindly  heart.  But  I  did  not  call  him  up 
till  night,  and  then  I  only  asked  him;  "Are  you  going 
to  be  good?"  "Yes,  sir!"  he  said  eagerly.  "Then  you 
may  tell  me  that  you  are  sorry,"  I  said.  He  looked  down, 
and  his  face  grew  sullen  again,  for  a  Fijian  hates  above 
everything  on  earth  to  say  that  he  repents — such  an 
admission  is  intermingled  with  various  old  customs  that 
give  it  a  significance  unknown  to  whites.  I  turned  away 
to  the  house.  Gideon,  seeing  his  last  chance  going, 
called  out;  "Missi  N'grimshaw!"  "Well?"  I  asked,  half 
t\imed  away.  Very  slowly  came  the  reluctant  words: 
"I  so-ry." 

"All  right,  Gideon,"  I  said.    "  You  can  go  round  and  get 
your  supper, and  have  the  horse  ready  at  seven  to-morrow." 


128  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

It  was  all  right.  He  ran  like  a  mongoose  to  the  cook- 
house, his  face  split  up  with  smiles;  and  thenceforward, 
till  the  end  of  the  trip,  I  had  no  trouble  with  Gideon.  A 
day  or  two  later,  at  Nanduri,  he  came  to  me  and  told  me 
that  he  had  been  "  levu  lia-lia  "  (very  mad)  at  Tumba,  and 
that  he  was  "tha"  (bad).  I  agreed  with  him  cordially, 
and  asked  him  why  he  had  acted  in  such  a  manner.  The 
question  seemed  to  have  a  certain  academic  interest  for 
him;  he  debated  it  seriously,  and  then  said  that  he 
thought  the  bad  people  in  the  woods  had  made  him  bad, 
too! 

That  is  all  of  Gideon.  I  dismissed  him  finally  in 
Suva,  with  his  wages  and  a  decent  testimonial,  and  saw 
him  go  off  to  buy  a  heavy  blue  serge  coat,  in  which  to 
torture  and  delight  himself  of  a  Sunday;  a  sulu  of  black 
French  cashmere,  at  eleven  shillings  a  yard ;  quantities 
of  tobacco,  sweet-stuff,  fresh  bread,  sugar  and  other 
civilised  luxuries  dear  to  the  native  heart.  Wherever 
he  is  he  is  a  great  man  by  reason  of  these  possessions,  and 
his  important  journey,  and  is,  no  doubt,  happy  and 
content. 

My  kindly  hosts  warned  me,  when  I  left  Tumba,  that 
it  would  be  well  for  me  to  wear  my  revolver  round  my 
waist,  when  travelling  back,  instead  of  having  it  conveyed 
in  the  baggage.  (No — I  know  Stanley  wouldn't  have 
done  that ;  but  then,  he  did  not  care  how  his  jackets  sat, 
and  didn't  object,  either,  to  looking  like  a  cowboy  on  a 
spree.)  They  said  that  my  Ndreketi  carriers  were  a  rough 
lot;  that  Gideon  might  break  out  again;  and  that,  in 
any  case,  the  prevailing  customs  of  the  devil-worshippers 
had  given  a  bad  tone  to  society  up  the  river.  So  I  carried 
the  weapon  in  my  belt,  and  felt  indescribably  foolish, 
but  perhaps  a  little  more  peaceful  at  heart  than  I  should 
otherwise  have  been — ^for,  after  the  week  up  the  river,  I 


INDUSTRIAL  SURPRISES  129 

could  not  feel  quite  certain  that  one  of  these  impulsive 
children  of  Nature  might  not  be  moved  suddenly  to 
heave  a  rock  at  the  back  of  my  head,  should  the  fancy 
take  him  as  we  plodded  along. 

The  bad  place  where  Somo-somo  had  got  into  trouble 
was  temporarily  bridged  by  the  villagers  for  me,  and  I 
got  safely  to  Nanduri  in  a  couple  of  days,  without  any 
adventure  worse  than  ten  hours  of  drenching  rain.  My 
men  were  bitterly  disappointed  when  I  pressed  on  to 
Lambasa,  after  a  single  night's  stop  at  the  Brighton  of 
Vanua  Levu;  but  I  wanted  to  see  the  vanilla  plantation 
at  Lambasa  before  the  steamer  left,  so  was  deaf  to 
their  cunning  hints  about  Nanduri,  and  melancholy 
sighs.     .     .     . 

.  .  .  It  was  at  the  resident  magistrate's  house  in 
Lambasa,  a  day  or  two  later,  that  I  found  Gideon  secret- 
ing certain  torn  scraps  of  paper,  and  a  broken  ink-bottle, 
that  I  had  thrown  away.  He  was  much  embarrassed 
when  I  asked  him  what  he  wanted  with  such  rubbish, 
and  only  murmured  shamefacedly  that  he  "plentee 
learning    write,    school,    Suva.     ...      " 

.  .  .  I  shut  my  eyes,  skipped  a  racial  and  moral 
gap  of  some  thousands  of  years,  and  felt  firm  ground 
underfoot.  In  certain  things,  the  black  and  the  white 
(like  "the  Colonel's  lady  and  Judy  O'Grady")  are  "as 
like  as  a  row  of  pins." 

"You  can  have  some  of  my  paper  and  envelopes  to 
write  to  your  friends,  Gideon,"  I  said  in  a  lordly  manner. 
"  It's  a  penny  to  Nanduri  by  the  Government  post. 
Here — you  can  have  a  stamp.     One  envelope?" 

"Thankyouverymuchdeedsir,"  replied  my  courier,  all 
in  one  word,  and  getting  up  to  salute,  military  fashion. 
"Seven  umvelose  (envelopes),  seven  samps,  I  liking 
thankyousir ! " 


I30  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

No  wonder  Nanduri  was  popular! 

I  was  very  much  interested  in  seeing  the  vanilla 
plantation,  for  this  is  one  of  those  new  departures  that 
have  irritated  the  oldest  inhabitant  almost  to  frenzy. 
Somebody  in  Viti  Levu  once  failed  with  a  vanilla  plan- 
tation. That  was  enough  for  the  oldest  inhabitant.  He 
solemnly  cursed  vanilla,  throughout  the  rolling  ages, 
evermore;  and  to  any  tentative  inquirer  his  sole  answer 
was  and  is:  "Don't  be  a  dam  fool.     It's  been  tried!" 

Nevertheless,  a  certain  enterprising  man  and  his  wife, 
who  were  getting  rich  very  slowly  indeed  keeping  a 
country  store,  resolved  to  brave  the  displeasure  of  the 
oldest  inhabitant  and  his  numerous  relatives,  and  try 
whether  the  magic  bean  might  not  do  for  them  what  it 
had  done  for  others,  in  South  America  and  the  West 
Indies.  So,  in  the  face  of  some  actual  opposition,  and 
continual  ridicule,  they  expended  their  little  capital  of 
;^2  5o  on  the  leasing  of  eight  acres  of  warm,  sheltered 
valley  land,  and  the  planting  of  9,000  cuttings  of  good 
Mexican  vanilla.  For  three  years,  with  the  assistance  of 
one  Fijian,  and  occasionally  a  couple  of  Indians,  the 
industrious  couple  kept  their  plants  weeded  and  tended, 
and,  latterly,  looked  to  the  fertilising  of  the  flowers — 
a  rather  tedious  business,  done  every  day  by  hand,  in  the 
earliest  hours  of  the  morning.  And  at  the  end  of  the 
three  years  the  reward  came,  for  the  plants  were  yielding 
splendidly,  and  were  expected  to  give  about  9,000  pounds 
of  dried  bean,  bringing  an  average  price  of  los.  a  pound. 
The  fruits  of  the  first  season  were  just  coming  in  when  I 
visited  the  plantation,  and  the  lucky  young  couple  were 
counting  up  their  gains,  present  and  future,  with  joyful 
hearts.  Some  of  the  old  settlers,  both  of  Suva  and  of 
Vanua  Levu,  were  exceedingly  grieved — ^not,  of  course, 
because  the  plucky  pair  were  making  money,  but  because 


INDUSTRIAL  SURPRISES  131 

they  were  sure  that  there  was  something  wrong  some- 
where, and  it  couldn't  possibly  be  themselves,  so  it  must 
be  the  vanilla — or  the  planters — or  something,  anyhow! 
Had  they  not  been  saying,  all  these  three  years,  that  the 
chemical  substitutes  for  vanilla  had  ruined  the  price; 
that  the  cost  of  labour  ate  up  all  profits ;  that  the  climate 
wasn't  right,  and  the  market  bad? — and  there  were  these 
people  actually  doing  all  the  important  work  themselves ; 
the  husband  getting  up  at  break  of  day  to  oversee  the 
weeding  and  to  fertilise  the  flowers,  with  a  little  occasional 
help ;  the  wife  attending  to  the  scalding,  and  the  sweating 
in  the  sun,  of  the  gathered  harvest — the  beans  turning 
out  splendid  in  quality,  and  fetching  up  to  24s.  a  pound, 
with  a  safe  average  of  105. — and  the  whole  enterprise 
simply  "humming!"  It  was  disgusting — so  they  felt. 

Mr.  C.  kindly  gave  me  all  the  particulars  I  wanted, 
and  furthermore,  showed  me  over  his  pretty  little  plan- 
tation and  modest  drying-yard.  The  beautiful,  thick- 
leaved  vines  were  trained  over  young  castor-oil  shrubs, 
in  one  or  two  shaded  valleys,  where  the  sun  was  not  too 
fierce,  and  hurricanes  could  not  damage  the  crop.  The 
work  did  not  seem  very  hard ;  indeed  the  planter  has  not 
yet  given  up  store-keeping,  in  addition.  According  to 
Mr.  C,  there  is  no  reason  (except  the  oldest  inhabitant) 
why  vanilla  should  not  do  well  in  Fiji. 

"But  remember  this,"  he  added,  "it's  the  poor  man's 
friend — not  a  gold-mine  for  companies.  Hired  labour,  of 
the  kind  one  gets  in  Fiji,  won't  do.  You  must  work 
yourself.  Care,  care,  care — ^that's  what  vanilla  needs; 
care  and  common  sense.  A  man  with  a  family  has  a 
great  advantage ;  he  can  set  his  boys  and  girls  to  work." 

"Girls?  In  this  climate?" 

"Certainly!  Vanilla's  often  cultivated  by  ladies  alone, 
with  a  little  help  for  the  weeding,  in  the  West  Indies.     The 


132  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

fertilising  of  the  flowers  is  exactly  the  work  for  a  woman's 
fingers — ^just  a  pinch,  and  a  touch  with  a  match — and 
it's  done  in  the  cool  of  the  morning.  The  curing  of  the 
beans  couldn't  hurt  a  baby,  if  it  had  brains  enough  to  do 
it.  There's  no  great  mystery  in  that,  either;  a  good 
handbook,  or  a  few  talks  with  a  practical  planter,  should 
set  anyone  in  the  right  way.  Yes,  my  wife  and  I  are 
satisfied  with  the  results  of  our  venture — we  may  well  be. 
Of  course,  it  could  be  done  on  a  smaller  scale,  and  still 
pay  very  nicely  indeed." 

Cattle-ranching  on  a  large  scale  is  not  exactly  the 
kind  of  thing  one  expects  to  find  in  a  South  Sea  island, 
but  Fiji  is  full  of  surprises.  It  was  only  one  surprise 
more,  therefore,  when  I  received  an  invitation  to  visit  a 
large  cattle  ranch  on  Taviuni,  belonging  to  one  of  the 
oldest  and  most  respected  settler  families  of  Fiji.     The 

T s  have  been  in  Taviuni  for  thirty  years,  and  fortune 

has  favoured  them  greatly.  If  one  needed  a  refutation 
of  the  common  idea  that  no  one  can  grow  rich  in  "The 
Islands,"  this  Taviuni  family  furnishes  a  ready  instance 
to  the  contrary. 

Taviuni  is  one  of  the  larger  islands  of  the  group,  being 
217  square  miles  in  extent.  It  is  supposed  to  contain  the 
most  fertile  land  in  Fiji,  and  to  have  the  most  beautiful 
scenery.  The  latter  claim  is  hardly  just,  though  the 
island  is  very  lovely.  Anyone  who  has  travelled  much 
about  the  group  will  certainly  uphold  the  claims  of  the 
Tholo  West  country  (Singatoka  and  highlands)  against 
all  other. 

One  gets  to  Taviuni  in  a  little  inter-insular  steamer, 
which  may  take  a  day,  or  the  best  part  of  a  week,  on  the 
journey,  according  to  the  number  of  islands  that  have  to 
be  called  at.     On  most  of  the  islands  one  finds  a  "  reigning 


UN  A  COCOANUT  PLAM  ATluX 


URVIXG  VANILLA 


INDUSTRIAL  SURPRISES  133 

family"  of  white  settlers,  who  own  the  place,  and  make 
their  living  by  planting  on  a  large  or  a  small  scale.  Copra 
is  the  invariable  crop.  The  labour  is  nearly  all  imported 
Indian,  since  very  little  agricultural  work  can  be  had 
from  Fijians. 

If  the  steamer  stops  long  enough,  an  invitation  is 
generally  sent  to  any  passengers  there  may  be,  asking 
them  to  come  ashore  and  lunch  or  dine.  The  outer 
islands  are  lonely  places,  and  white  society  is  always  at 
a  premium.  Most  of  the  settlers'  houses  and  surround- 
ings, in  spite  of  the  isolation,  are  wonderfully  well  kept  up, 
and  there  is  a  standard  of  education  and  refinement  among 
the  planters  themselves  that  is  astonishing  to  anyone 
who  has  travelled  in  the  larger  British  colonies,  and  seen 
to  what  unfortunate  depths  the  isolated  settler  and  his 
family  too  often  descend.  Indeed,  it  is  a  matter  worthy 
of  very  special  note,  that  all  over  Fiji  the  white  settlers, 
old  and  new,  might  for  the  most  part  pass  as  town- 
dwellers  taking  holiday  in  the  country,  so  far  as  general 
good  manners  and  education  are  concerned.  Exceptions 
to  this  rule  are  nearly  always  due  to  native  or  half-caste 
marriages,  and  these  are  not  at  all  common.  As  for  Suva, 
it  is  quite  the  finest  and  most  up-to-date  city  in  the  whole 
Pacific  (with  the  possible  exception  of  Honolulu),  and 
there  are  many  important  Australian  and  New  Zealand 
towns  that  fall  far  behind  it.  Assuredly,  Fiji  is  no  back- 
water in  any  sense  of  the  word. 

The  great  success  of  the  T s  of  Taviuni  has  been 

attained  by  a  combination  which  they  were  the  first  in 
the  islands  to  try — cattle  and  copra,  worked  together. 
The  palms  on  the  estate  number  about  sixty  thousand, 
planted  for  the  most  part  in  regular  rows  forming  arcades 
of  extreme  beauty.  Several  thousand  head  of  cattle 
are  generally  run  on  the  place,  the  number  varying  a 


134  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

good  deal  from  time  to  time.  Every  boat  carries  away 
large  numbers  of  beasts  to  Suva,  which  consumes  the 
greater  part  of  the  meat  produced  by  the  estate. 

The  copra  is  produced  by  the  usual  simple  process  of 
the  islands.  The  nuts  are  husked  and  opened,  and  the 
kernel  cleared  out,  by  the  native  labourers.  In  wet 
weather,  the  cut-up  kernels  are  dried  in  artificially 
heated  sheds,  while  during  the  dry  season  they  are  spread 
out  on  high  platforms  in  the  sun.  This  is  all  the  prepara- 
tion required,  beyond  bagging.  Not  a  complicated 
process,  certainly,  for  an  industry  that  pays  so  well. 

Cattle  do  very  well  in  Taviuni,  as  in  most  other  parts 
of  the  Fijis,  and  I  have  never  seen  better  beasts  than  the 
mob  of  some  thousands  that  I  assisted  to  drive  into  the 
stock- yards  on  a  certain  memorable  day  of  my  stay.  My 
hosts  had  kindly  offered  me  a  mount,  and  told  me  that 
they  did  not  think  the  riding  would  be  more  formidable 
than  cross-country  w^ork  at  home;  so  I  accepted.  .  . 
and  was  more  sorry  than  I  should  have  cared  to  say,  an 
hour  or  so  after  the  start  from  the  pretty  homestead  in 
the  early  morning.  For  I  then  discovered  what  a  good 
many  British  riders  have  had  to  learn  in  the  colonies, 
that  taking  a  horse  across  any  number  of  English  fields 
and  fences  has  nothing  in  the  world  to  do  with  taking 
him  (or  letting  him  take  you,  as  is  more  likely)  over  the 
broken  ground  of  a  rough  and  wooded  tropical  country, 
in  company  with  a  few  thousand  extremely  excited  cattle 
which  have  got  to  be  driven  all  in  one  direction,  to  a  place 
some  miles  away. 

My  mount  was  a  stock-horse  trained,  and  a  very  high- 
spirited  young  thoroughbred  to  boot,  who  wouldn't  be 
ridden  except  with  a  light  snaffle,  bucked  when  one  held 
him  in,  and  could  do  feats  in  the  way  of  step-dancing  at 
full   gallop  among    boulders,   gullies,    tree-stimips,    and 


INDUSTRIAL  SURPRISES  135 

sudden  deep  holes,  that  made  one  suspect  him  of  relation- 
ship to  a  kangaroo.  I  never  saw  anything  like  it  before, 
and  I  have  almost  ceased  to  believe,  at  this  distance  of 
time  and  space,  that  it  ever  happened.  Horses  do  not, 
and  cannot,  tear  full  gallop  over  country  that  has  not  a 
level  inch,  that  has  as  many  holes  as  a  honeycomb,  and 
as  many  stumps  as  a  hairbrush,  that  is  cross-barred  with 
gullies,  and  peppered  with  loose  rocks.  ...  I  must 
certainly  have  dreamed  it.  Yet  it  didn't  seem  like  a 
dream;  you  cannot  dream  that  the  skin  is  coming  off 
the  insides  of  your  fingers,  and  the  bend  of  your  knee, 
and  find,  a  week  after,  that  the  traces  of  the  vision  are 
still  plain  to  be  seen — you  cannot,  unless  you  have  the 
imagination  of  an  Edgar  Allan  Poe,  figure  to  yourself 
what  kind  of  a  noise  some  thousands  of  cattle  make 
bellowing  all  round  you — and  you  certainly  cannot,  if 
you  are  an  unlearned  female,  evolve  out  of  your  own 
consciousness  the  sort  of  thing  that  men  say  to  cattle 
under  these  circumstances,  when  they  think  they  are 
safely  out  of  hearing  of  the  visitor — ^but  aren't. 

No,  the  horse  and  his  surroundings  were  real  enough, 
though  unusual.  It  would  not  do  to  take  an  expensive 
English  hunter  out  to  such  a  place,  and  trust  him  to 
follow  an  Australian  stock-horse.  Your  hunter  would 
be  hounds'  meat  before  he  had  gone  a  hundred  yards, 
and  as  for  his  rider. 

I  did  not  get  thrown  that  day,  but  no  one  saw  the 
occasions  on  which  I  escaped  by  the  skin  of  a  pommel 
from  blank  disaster;  no  one  saw  how  often  my  head 
was  in  the  scrub,  and  my  heart  in  my  mouth.  I  never 
thought  to  get  back  alive.  If  the  reader  wants  to  know 
why,  let  him  take  a  young  spirited  stock-horse  out  round- 
ing-up  cattle  in  an  extremely  broken  and  woody  country, 
for  the  first  time  of  asking — and  he  will  have  news  to 


136  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

tell  me,  however  much  he  may  fancy  his  riding.  It  may 
be  objected  that  I  could  not  have  driven  half -wild  cattle 
in  a  strange  country.  I  certainly  could  not,  but  my 
mount  could,  would,  and  did.  And  if  anyone  wants 
to  know  how  it  felt,  let  him  imagine  himself  riding  an 
extremely  active  collie  over  fifteen  hands  high,  driving 
a  dozen  rebellious  flocks  at  once  in  and  out  of  a  tangle 
consisting  of  Stonehenge,  Dartmoor,  and  the  New 
Forest,  all  hashed  up  together — and  he  will  have  some 
idea. 

I  did  drive  cattle  that  day  to  some  extent;  at  least, 
I  looked  as  if  I  were  doing  so,  though  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
I  was  cursing  the  horse  and  saying  my  prayers  by  turns. 
None  of  the  beasts  attacked  us;  I  should  not  have  been 
sorry  if  they  had,  because  then  I  could  have  stopped 
squabbling  with  the  horse  myself  for  a  little.  It  was  his 
mathematical  accuracy  of  eye  that  was  the  worst  of  him. 
He  had  been  ridden  by  a  man  hitherto,  and  he  knew 
exactly  how  much  space  to  allow  for  the  half  of  a  man, 
when  twisting  and  turning  through  scrub  like  an  impres- 
sionist dancer  circling  among  her  own  draperies.  But 
he  did  not  know  how  much  to  allow  for  the  whole  of  me, 
and  every  time  he  whisked  round  a  tree  on  the  near  side 
I  just  saved  myself  by  the  fluff  of  my  habit.  .  .  .  If  I 
went  cattle-driving  every  day  for  a  week,  I  should  be 
conspicuously  pious  at  the  end  of  it — or  else  conspicuously 
dead. 

When  we  had  ridden  the  cattle  up  to  the  stock- yards, 
and  the  men  were  driving  them  in,  one  of  my  hosts 
came  up  to  me,  and  politely  congratulated  me  on  my 
riding.  (If  he  had  only  known  .  .  .  but  he  was  too 
well  occupied  during  the  ride  to  observe  anything  save 
the  fact  that  I  was  still  alive.) 

"  I'm  glad  you've  had  a  good  time,"  he  said.   "  Round- 


INDUSTRIAL  SURPRISES  137 

ing-up  is  really  great  fun  you  know,  and  we  always  like 
ovir  visitors  to  see  it." 

"But  mostly,"  he  added,  as  an  afterthought — 
"mostly,  you  know,  they  fall  off!" 

"  There,  but  for  the  grace  of  God,  goes  John  Bunyan," 
I  murmured,  as  I  slipped  out  of  my  saddle. 

"I  beg  your  pardon?"  said  my  host. 

"  I  was  only  saying  that  I  hoped  there  would  be  soda- 
buns  for  tea,"  I  explained  untruthfully. 

"  It  does  make  one  hungry,"  he  agreed. 

Planter  life  in  Fiji,  in  these  days,  seems  to  be  approxi- 
mating closely  to  what  one  has  heard  of  planter  life  in 
the  West  Indies,  in  the  prosperous  times  of  the  earlier 
Nineteenth  Century.  The  comfortable  houses,  the  con- 
sideration of  "  appearances  "  that  really  means  the  highest 
self-respect,  the  taste  for  literature  and  music,  the  gen- 
erous hospitality  and  free-handed  entertaining,  the 
pretty,  though  simple  dress  of  the  women,  the  manly, 
open-air  character  of  the  men,  the  absence  of  stress  or 
hurry — all  these  things  tend  to  make  the  planter  class  of 
the  Fijis  representative  of  a  dignified  pleasant  era  that 
one  almost  fancied  had  passed  away  from  British  colonial 
life.  Fiji  is  certainly  not  as  other  colonies.  A  colony, 
generally  speaking,  is  purely  English,  like  India,  its  people 
being,  in  consequence,  impatient  of  their  surroundings, 
and  only  eager  to  get  home  for  good — or  it  is  purely 
colonial,  like  Australia,  with  a  new  set  of  national  char- 
acteristics, which  may  be  better  or  worse  than  the  char- 
acteristics of  the  home  English,  but  are  at  all  events 
quite  different.  Fiji,  however,  has  steered  a  course  of 
its  own,  and  is  Colonial  and  English  at  the  same  time. 
It  is  hard  to  understand  why,  for  the  settler  in  these 
islands,  early  or  recent,  seems  always  to  have  come  with 


138  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

the  idea  of  making  the  country  his  permanent  home,  and 
to  have  carried  it  out  in  most  cases;  furthermore,  he  is 
usually  proud  of  his  country,  and  ready  to  defend  it 
against  all  comparisons.  The  fact,  however,  remains — 
Fiji  is  more  English  than  any  other  colony  south  of  the 
Line.  A  Briton  may  be  pardoned  for  thinking  that  it 
is  none  the  worse. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

AN  ANGLO-FRENCH  DILEMMA 

The  Mysterious  Islands — Where  No  One  Goes — What  Hap- 
pened to  the  Cook — A  Fairy  Harbour — Extraordinary 
Vila — History  of  New  Hebrides — What  France  intends 

AT  THE  end  of  my  twenty  months'  wanderings  through 
the  islands  of  the  Eastern  and  Middle  Pacific,  I 
found  myself  in  Sydney,  where  everyone  was  talking 
about  the  New  Hebrides. 

It  was  September,  1905.  The  Anglo-French  Con- 
vention, so  Australians  hoped,  would  get  to  work  on  the 
New  Hebridean  question  almost  immediately,  and  settle 
all  the  thorny  problems  that  had  been  perplexing  and 
impoverishing  the  settlers.  There  had  been  fresh  mur- 
ders in  the  islands,  and  a  punitive  expedition  was  talked 
of.  The  "White  Australia"  cry,  which  had  insisted  on 
the  passing  of  vexatious  tariff  laws  against  all  New  Hebri- 
dean produce,  was  now  being  answered  by  a  bitter  wail 
from  white  Australians  up  in  the  islands,  who  could  not 
make  butter  for  their  bread  under  the  new  enactments. 
Altogether,  the  New  Hebrides  were  providing  much  food 
for  talk  and  giiesswork. 

It  was  an  odd  fact,  under  the  circumstances,  that  no 
one  really  knew  anything  to  speak  of  about  the  place. 
The  New  Hebrides  are  not  very  far  from  Australia — only 
about  1 ,  500  miles  northeast  of  Sydney —  and  they  are  by  no 
means  an  insignificant  group,  since  they  extend  over  seven 
hundred  miles  of  sea,  and  some  of  the  islands  are  sixty 

139 


140  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

and  seventy  miles  long.  Further,  there  is  one  monthly 
boat  direct  from  Sydney,  and  another  that  goes  round  by 
New  Caledonia.  For  all  this,  and  for  all  the  fact  that 
Australia  understands  the  group  to  be  the  weakest  spot 
in  her  sea  surroundings  and  defences,  the  great  southern 
continent  knows  almost  nothing  as  to  values,  prospects, 
and  present  conditions  of  the  place.  .  .  .  True 
daughter  of  her  little  northern  parent,  this  big  Australia, 
inheriting  the  weaknesses  as  well  as  the  virtues  of  her 
mighty  mother.  For  when  did  the  stay-at-home  English 
accord  to  their  far-off  colonial  interests  more  than  a  step- 
dame's  grudging  share  of  interest  and  help? 

I  wanted  to  know  a  great  many  things  about  these 
mysterious,  murderous  New  Hebrides,  where  the  interests 
of  England,  France  and  Australia  seemed  to  be  clashing 
in  a  manner  altogether  inexplicable,  but  none  the  less 
astonishing.  Questions,  however,  only  succeeded  in 
reaping  a  remarkable  crop  of  know -nothingness,  don't- 
careishness,  and  simple  lie.  Therewith  was  always 
politeness,  for  the  Australian  is  nearly,  if  not  quite,  as 
courteous  to  women  as  the  American — ^but  only  two 
Sydney  people  could  tell  me  anything  at  all  about  the 
place,  and  their  accounts  were  gloomy.  I  was  not  to 
suppose  that  the  New  Hebrides  were  like  Fiji.  There 
was  no  law,  no  government,  and  next  to  no  regard  for 
human  life.  The  natives  were  murderers  and  cannibals 
to  a  man ;  I  should  be  shot,  if  I  went ;  if  not  shot,  eaten ; 
if  not  eaten,  killed  by  fever.  Yes,  a  few  travellers  had 
been,  though  it  was  not  a  tourist  place  by  any  means; 
but  they  had  all  kept  to  the  steamer  right  through  the 
trip,  and  only  taken  short  walks  ashore.  If  I  persisted 
in  going,  I  had  better  do  the  same.  But  I  should  do 
much  better  to  stay  in  Sydney,  and  occupy  the  time 
taking  trips  about  the  harbour,  which  really  was     .     .     . 


H.  M.  S.  "  PEGASUS  ' 


AN  ANGLO-FRENCH  DILEMMA  141 

I  had  an  engagement,  and  I  could  not  stay  to  hear 
about  that  harbour.  People  who  have  been  to  Sydney 
will  know^  why.  But  I  had  already  heard  quite  enough  to 
decide  me  to  follow  the  traveller's  excellent  rule  of 
contraries,  and  go  to  the  New  Hebrides  forthwith.  All 
the  really  "good  times"  I  have  had,  in  the  course  of 
many  thousands  of  miles'  wanderings  about  odd 
comers  of  the  globe,  have  been  obtained  by  the 
simple  plan  of  avoiding  the  places  which  every  person 
should  make  a  point  of  seeing,  and  seeking  those  from 
which  one  is  most  carefully  and  earnestly  warned 
away. 

The  truth  is  that  in  the  places  where  "everyone" 
goes,  almost  no  man  sees  w^ith  his  own  eyes.  It  is  im- 
possible to  do  so,  unless  you  are  a  savage  or  a  genius ;  and 
most  of  us  are  neither  (though  a  select  few,  in  the  course 
of  history,  have  even  contrived  to  be  both).  The  cele- 
brated spot,  whether  it  be  Lake  Como,  or  Niagara,  or 
the  Taj  Mahal,  Jerusalem  at  Easter,  or  Japan  in  cherry- 
blossom  time,  is  like  a  photograph  upon  which  a  count- 
less number  of  others,  all  more  or  less  similar,  have  been 
superimposed  in  the  well-known  "composite"  style. 
One  can  only  see  the  famous  place  through  a  dim  haze 
of  Brown's,  Jones's,  and  Robinson's  historic  British  feelings 
about  it,  outlined  with  touches  of  Smith  the  great  trav- 
eller's writings.  In  the  whole  blurred,  worn-out  picture, 
each  man's  personal  impression  counts  for  just  another 
touch  of  shade  set  upon  a  shadow  that  has  long  been 
there;  just  another  high  light  lost  in  the  edges  of  a  high 
light  that  has  been  in  that  precise  place  for  cen- 
turies. .  .  .  It  is  impossible  to  admire  by  the  bat- 
talion, and  yet  enjoy  to  the  full  that  sense  of  an  individu- 
ality enlarged  by  experiences  absolutely  new,  that  is  the 
real  heart  of  travel-pleasure.     And  this,  perhaps,  is  why 


142  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

most  people,  if  they  would  only  acknowledge  it,  find 
celebrated  places  a  little  disappointing. 

Of  the  regions  where  "nobody  goes,"  this  much  may 
certainly  be  expected — they  will  be  fresh.  You  will  not 
know  beforehand  exactly  w^hat  you  are  going  to  see,  but 
it  is  sure  to  be  interesting,  for  where  the  foot  of  the  tourist 
does  not  tread,  strange  customs  and  old  w^ays  flourish 
undisturbed,  and  windows  are  opened  into  worlds  far 
other  than  our  own.  Also — I  cannot  tell  the  reason,  but 
I  am  very  sure  of  the  fact — there  will  certainly  be  some- 
thing that  is  just  as  good  as  the  hackneyed  attractions  to 
be  found  along  the  beaten  roads  of  travel,  if  not  far  better 
— something  very  well  worth  going  to,  but  fenced  off 
from  desecrating  tourists'  feet  by  the  barriers,  whatever 
they  may  be,  that  have  made  of  the  place  a  land  where 
"nobody  goes."  Many  and  various  are  these  barriers, 
in  different  places — extreme  remoteness,  want  of  com- 
prehensive shipping  services,  bad  climates,  fevers,  absence 
of  roads,  of  hotels,  of  proper  food,  liability  to  destructive 
hurricanes,  danger  from  uncivilised  natives — these  are 
among  the  commonest  causes.  The  New  Hebrides  group 
has  them  all — yet  it  well  repays  every  scrap  of  trouble, 
every  hour  of  hardship  inflicted  upon  those  who  invade 
its  fastnesses ;  and  the  beauty  and  myster}^  and  horror  of 
the  place  will  assuredly  stamp  their  seal  for  life  upon  the 
mind  that  has  once  experienced  them. 

From  the  steamship  company  that  maintains  a 
happy-go-luck}^  service  about  the  group,  I  obtained 
much  kindly  help  and  counsel.  Even  their  people 
did  not  know  anything  to  speak  of  about  the  interior 
of  the  islands,  but  they  gave  me  useful  hints  about 
quinine  and  the  like,  and  what  clothes  and  other  goods 
not  to  take,  and  where  I  should  not  go,  and  how 
long   I    should    not    stay.     .     .     .     Advice    about    the 


AN  ANGLO-FRENCH  DILEMMA  143 

islands  seemed  likely  to  resolve  itself  into  a  series  of 
negatives. 

It  was  an  eight  days'  voyage  up  to  Vila,  in  a  decent 
little  steamer  that  had  only  two  passengers — island 
traders  both — besides  myself.  As  we  were  in  tropic  seas, 
and  in  a  wild  and  strange  part  of  the  earth,  interesting 
things  should  have  happened  during  that  eight  days. 
They  did  not — save  for  the  fact  that  the  cook  got  drunk 
and  struck  work,  two  days  out,  and  that  the  rosy-faced, 
smiling  little  captain  went  down  to  his  cabin,  mixed  a 
deadly  draught  of  all  the  most  abominable  and  powerful 
drugs  in  the  medicine-chest,  poured  together  at  random, 
and  went  forw^ard  toward  the  regions  of  the  galley  with 
the  fearful  brew  in  his  hand — always  smiling.     .     .     . 

I  do  not  know  why  one  of  the  mates  said  there  was 
a  belaying-pin  missing  out  of  the  rail,  not  long  after; 
for  the  wise  passenger  does  not  intrude  himself  or  herself 
into  matters  that  are  outside  the  passenger  province. 
For  the  same  reason,  I  must  acknowledge  ignorance  as 
to  why  the  cook  did  not  die.  I  only  know  that  there  was 
a  wild,  weird  dinner  that  night,  whereas  we  had  feared 
there  would  be  none,  and  that  until  Vila  was  reached, 
the  cook,  unlike  the  captain,  "never  smiled  again." 

But  even  this  eight-day  voyage  in  an  island  steamer 
that  takes  no  heed  of  the  gospel  of  Clark  Russell,  comes 
to  an  end  at  last,  and  there  arrives  a  morning  when  the 
sea  is  bright  with  the  pale-blue  dazzle  of  sun-smitten 
tropic  latitudes,  and  the  flying-fish  are  glancing  and 
skipping  about  our  bows,  and  Vila  Harbour — surely  the 
loveliest  of  all  the  fairy  harbours  in  the  wonderful  island 
world — is  opening  out  before  us. 

.  .  .  Very  blue  and  green  and  vivid  and  tropical; 
very  exquisitely  set  in  peaky  hills,  and  gemmed  with 


144  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

enchanted  islets  resting  like  scattered  emeralds  on  the 
turquoise  plain  of  the  bay — very  far  indeed  above  the  poor 
art  of  the  mere  word -painter,  even  if  word-painting  were 
commonly  read,  which  it  is  not — such  is  Port  Vila,  a 
harbour  that  may  fairly  take  its  rank  with  such  cele- 
brated beauties  of  the  shipping  world  as  Rio  in  Brazil, 
the  Golden  Gate  of  San  Francisco,  or  exquisite  Papeete 
in  Tahiti,  the  island  of  dreams.  And  it  is  well  that  the 
harbour  and  approach  are  what  they  are,  for  the  town 
itself — the  capital  of  the  New  Hebrides — comes  with 
something  of  a  shock  on  an  unaccustomed  eye. 

Washington,  capital  of  the  United  States,  has  been 
described  as  a  city  of  magnificent  distances.  Vila, 
capital  of  the  exceedingly  disunited  New  Hebrides,  may, 
in  parallel  fashion,  be  described  as  a  city  of  magnificent 
omissions.  It  is  principally  remarkable  for  what  is  not 
there.  Its  splendid  hotel,  its  handsome  Town  Hall,  its 
pier  and  promenade,  its  public  buildings — are  still  in  the 
quarry.  Its  main  street  can  be  distinguished  from  the 
surrounding  bush,  with  care  and  a  pioneering  axe,  since 
it  has  something  like  a  dozen  different  buildings,  distrib- 
uted over  the  course  of  a  mile  or  so.  The  other  streets 
consist  of  crazy-lettered  boards,  planted  about  unin- 
habited wilds,  and  declaring,  in  the  teeth  of  probability, 
that  this  particular  section  of  guava  bush  or  cottonwood 
scrub  is  the  Boulevard  de  Something,  or  the  Avenue  de 
Something  Else.     That  is  Vila. 

On  the  summit  of  a  high  peaky  green  island,  out  in 
the  bay,  stands  a  big  gray  bungalow  that  shows  prom- 
inently among  the  palms.  This  is  the  residence  of  the 
British  Commissioner,  Captain  Ernest  Rason,  R.  N.  It 
is  fashionable,  in  the  New  Hebrides,  to  live  on  an  island 
by  yourself,  if  you  can,  partly  for  coolness,  and  partly 
because  the  impulsive  manners  of  the  natives,  in  certain 


AN  ANGLO-FRENCH  DILEMMA  145 

parts,  are  more  easily  kept  in  check  when  one  can  always 
see  them  on  their  way  to  make  a  call,  and  get  out  the 
afternoon  tea  and  the  Winchester  rifles  in  good  time. 
Most  of  the  mission  stations,  and  many  small  native 
villages,  are  situated  on  separate  islets,  about  various 
parts  of  the  group.  It  is  a  quaint  custom,  and  adds 
much  to  the  picturesque  quality  of  the  scenery. 

(One  of  the  passengers  is  trying  to  make  the  others 
believe  that  he  saw  the  following  house-agent's  advertise- 
ment in  a  Sydney  paper,  not  long  ago : 

"  NEW  HEBRIDES  GROUP.— Most  eligible  residence  for 
gentleman's  or  trader's  family,  now  in  the  market.  Exceptionally 
well  situated  upon  the  stmimit  of  an  island  1800  ft.  high,  with 
splendid  outlook  over  the  adjacent  cannibal  country.  The 
residence  is  well  out  of  poisoned-arrow  range,  and  two  hundred 
yards  out  of  shot  of  Tower  muskets,  but  tenants  possessing  maga- 
zine rifles  can  enjoy  excellent  native  shooting  from  their  own  door. 
The  mansion  is  thoroughly  up-to-date,  and  is  replete  with  every 
modern  convenience,  including  bullet-proof  bedroom  shutters,  ex- 
cellent hurricane  cellar,  and  handsome,  airy  fever  ward.  Good 
dynamite  fishing  all  round  the  estate.  Monthly  post,  and  yearly 
man-of-war.  The  punitive  expedition  season  is  full  of  picturesque 
interest,  and  mixed  Governments  flourish  luxuriantly  all  the  year 
round  in  the  circimijacent  country.  " 

Was  he  speaking  the  truth?  Well,  I  should  not  care  to 
undertake  a  decision  on  that  point.  Strange  things  hap- 
pen under  the  Southern  Cross.  But  I  do  not  ask  any 
reader  to  believe  more  than  he  feels  inclined  for.) 

The  New  Hebrides  are  a  good-sized  group  of  islands, 
thirty-five  in  number,  varying  from  a  few  yards  or  acres 
to  a  couple  of  thousand  square  miles  in  extent,  and 
covering  a  space  of  eight  hundred  miles  of  sea.  The 
native  population  is  variously  estimated  at  60,000  to 
100,000,    and   there   are   about   three   hundred    French 


146  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

settlers,  and  less  than  two  hundred  British  and  colonials 
— most  of  whom  are  missionaries. 

The  islands  are  extremely  beautiful,  and  remarkably 
fertile.  Three  crops  of  maize  a  year  can  be  raised  with 
little  trouble.  Coffee  is  largely  grown,  and  there  is  none 
better  in  the  Pacific.  Millet,  for  broom-making,  grows 
readily  and  pays  well.  Copra  can  be  produced  in  the 
New  Hebrides  to  better  advantage  than  in  any  of  the 
British  Pacific  colonies,  the  Solomons  only  excepted. 
Eighty  nuts  a  tree  is  considered  a  very  good  average 
over  the  greater  part  of  the  South  Seas.  In  the  New 
Hebrides,  the  figures  I  received  seemed  almost  beyond 
belief,  but  even  allowing  for  much  exaggeration,  it 
seems  certain  that  the  average  yearly  crop  of  nuts  must 
be  quite  twice  as  large  as  in  Fiji,  the  Cook  Islands,  or 
Tonga.  I  saw  more  than  one  tree  that  had  three  hun- 
dred nuts  at  once  upon  it  (as  I  was  informed;  I  did  not 
count  them,  since  that  would  have  involved  going  up  the 
tree  with  a  paint-pot  and  a  brush  to  mark  them  off) ,  and 
I  heard  of  one  or  two  that  had  four  and  even  five  hundred. 

This  is  a  more  important  matter  than  might  appear 
at  first,  for  the  copra  trade  is  the  true  gold-mine  of  the 
Pacific.  The  oil  that  is  expressed  from  the  dried  nut- 
kernels  is  used  in  many  different  departments  of  com- 
merce, especially  soap-making,  and  the  demand  con- 
stantly exceeds  the  available  supply — so  much  so,  that 
the  well-known  firm  of  Lever  Brothers  have  been  buying 
up  large  tracts  of  land  in  the  British  Solomons,  to  keep 
their  factories  supplied. 

On  the  whole,  though  they  are  mostly  uncleared  as 
yet,  these  islands  are  quite  worth  having  from  an  average 
trading  point  of  view.  But  they  own  other  advantages, 
less  apparent  on  the  surface — to  us,  though  evidently 
not  to  others. 


AN  ANGLO-FRENCH  DILEMMA  147 

For  no  less  than  fifty  years,  a  tug-of-war,  more  or 
less  polite — at  present,  on  account  of  the  entente  cordiale, 
decidedly  "more" — has  been  going  on  between  ourselves 
and  France  over  the  possession  of  the  New  Hebrides  group. 
I  really  cannot  say  why  England  has  not  allowed  France 
to  take  them  over  long  ago — it  is,  however,  certainly  not 
because  she  understands  either  the  true  significance  of 
the  question,  or  the  inner  meaning  of  the  attitude 
assumed  by  the  rival  claimant,  for  the  absence  of  all 
attempts  to  support  British  interests  in  the  islands,  and 
the  easy  manner  in  which  every  point  of  importance  was 
passed  over  on  the  occasion  of  the  late  Anglo-French 
Convention,  furnish  only  too  much  proof  to  the  contrary. 
One  inclines  to  suppose  that  John  Bull  has  simply  let 
matters  slide,  so  far,  because  he  does  not  care  to  be 
troubled,  and  it  would  be  troublesome  to  come  to  a 
decision  one  way  or  the  other. 

Here  is  the  history,  in  brief,  of  the  disputed  group. 
It  was  discovered  by  the  Portuguese  De  Quiros,  in  1605. 
The  subsequent  exploring,  charting,  and  naming  was 
carried  out  for  the  most  part  by  Captain  Cook,  though 
the  French  captains,  Carteret  and  De  Bougainville,  also 
visited  the  islands  during  the  Eighteenth  Century,  and 
explored  certain  parts.  The  islands  were  given  their 
present  name  by  the  great  English  explorer,  who,  on  the 
same  voyage,  discovered  and  named  New  Caledonia — 
a  rich  and  valuable  country  which  was  allowed  to  pass 
without  opposition  into  the  hands  of  France,  in  the  early 
Nineteenth  Century.  Before  this  annexation,  no  one 
seemed  very  anxious  to  acquire  the  New  Hebrides  group, 
but  from  the  occupation  of  New  Caledonia,  the  lesser 
place  began  to  come  forw^ard.  Up  to  1878  the  settlers 
and  missionaries  were  almost  entirely  British.  In  that 
year,    however,    an    agreement    was    entered    into    with 


148  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

France  to  recognise  the  independence  of  the  islands, 
France  herself  undertaking  to  do  the  same.  (It  is  a 
fact  worthy  of  note  that,  in  spite  of  this,  six  years  later 
France  was  negotiating  with  Germany  to  make  arrange- 
ments by  which  Germany  should  agree  to  the  establish- 
ment of  a  French  protectorate  over  the  group.)  In 
1886,  France  proposed  to  exchange  the  small  island  of 
Rapa,  in  the  Eastern  Pacific,  for  the  right  to  annex  the 
New  Hebrides.  Lord  Granville  was  willing  to  accept 
the  proposal,  but  the  Australian  Premiers  remonstrated 
so  strongly  that  it  was  finally  refused. 

From  1878  onward,  an  infusion  of  French  settlers 
and  missionaries  began  to  flow  into  the  New  Hebrides, 
and  every  effort  was  made  by  the  French  Government 
to  strengthen  their  hold  on  the  country.  The  result 
has  been  that  the  French  population  now  outnimibers 
the  British ;  that  the  commerce  of  the  group  is  heavily 
handicapped  where  English  and  Australian  settlers  are 
concerned,  and  is  heavily  subsidised  in  favour  of  the 
French;  that  British  interests  are  everywhere  going  to 
the  wall,  and  that  the  French  are  openly  expressing  their 
intention  of  acquiring  the  whole  group,  now  that  the 
Anglo-French  Convention  has  so  obligingly  agreed  to 
uphold  the  status  quo  ante.  That,  they  declare,  is  all 
they  wanted;  time  will  do  the  rest. 

And  now  for  the  inner  meaning  of  it  all.  Why  does 
France  so  ardently  desire  to  obtain  possession  of  a  rather 
unimportant  island  group  in  an  out-of-the-way  place, 
that  she  spends  many  thousands  of  pounds  a  year  in  the 
subsidising  of  traders,  settlers,  and  steamer  companies, 
and  brings  all  the  heavy  artillery  of  her  famous  diplo- 
matic powers  to  bear  on  the  maintaining  of  a  paramount 
position  among  a  handful  of  cannibal  savages? 

For  three  excellent   reasons:     First  of  all,   because 


ENTERING  THE  STOCK-YARDS 


HAVANA  HARBOUR,  EFATE 


AN  ANGLO-FRENCH  DILEMMA  149 

New  Caledonia — that  rich  plum  among  island  countries, 
a  land  three  hundred  miles  long,  containing  almost  every 
precious  and  semi-precious  metal — cannot  be  securely 
held  without  the  New  Hebrides  group.  The  latter  is 
eminently  fitted  for  the  establishment  of  a  naval  base, 
and  contains  three  magnificent  harbours,  which  neither 
New  Caledonia,  nor  any  place  within  thousands  of  miles, 
can  match.  Secondly,  the  opening  of  the  Panama 
Canal  route  will  bring  the  islands  so  much  nearer  to  the 
great  trading  highways,  that  they  will  become  more 
important  than  they  are  at  present,  both  from  a  strategic 
and  a  trading  point  of  view.  Thirdly,  New  Caledonia 
is  not  a  grain-producing  country;  the  New  Hebrides 
group  is,  and  the  other  needs  it  as  a  permanent  granary. 

All  in  all,  the  problem  resolves  itself,  for  France,  into 
the  fact  that  the  permanent  loss  of  the  New  Hebrides 
will  probably  mean  the  loss  of  New  Caledonia  as  well, 
and,  incidentally,  of  an  excellent  site  for  a  naval  base. 
For  us,  it  means  that  the  loss  of  our  rights  would  place 
a  hornet's  nest  belonging  to  a  rival  power  at  the  gates 
of  our  most  important,  and  least  effectively  defended 
colony,  that  British  trade  would  be  driven  out  of  the 
group,  and  that  a  stronghold  which  is  really  needed  by  us 
as  an  offset  to  the  naval  base  lately  established  by  Ger- 
many in  New  Guinea  would  be  taken  from  us. 

At  present,  the  islands  are  in  the  most  uncomfortable 
and  unsettled  state  it  is  possible  to  conceive.  There 
is  no  other  place  in  the  world  where  an  uncivilised  col- 
oured race  is  to  be  found  in  an  entirely  self-ruling  con- 
dition, owning  no  real  master,  and  not  even  "protected" 
by  any  of  the  great  Powers.  At  the  time  of  my  visit 
last  year.  Monsieur  Borde,  the  French  Commissioner, 
and  Captain  Rason,  the  British,  could  not  pass  laws,  or 
hold  courts  of  justice;  and  there  was  actually  no  law 


I50  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

of  any  kind  in  the  group.  If  a  native  murdered  a  white 
man,  the  only  redress  was  of  the  "  might- is-right "  pat- 
tern, and  was  usually  applied  by  the  next  man-of-war 
that  happened  to  come  along.  If  a  white  man  injured 
another  in  any  way,  there  was  no  legal  redress  at  all.  It 
was  certainly  a  curious  experience  to  stay  in  a  place  where 
murder,  assault,  or  robbery  were  perfectly  permissible 
diversions,  for  any  one  who  might  fancy  such  forms  of 
amusement,  and  still  more  curious  to  see  the  quiet  and 
orderly  manner  in  which  life  actually  went  on,  without 
the  usual  machinery  of  law  and  government  to  keep  it 
in  order.  Even  the  New  Caledonia  ticket-of-leave  ele- 
ment, of  which  there  was  more  than  enough,  did  nothing 
worse  than  get  drunk,  and  scandalise  the  Grundian  pro- 
prieties. All  this,  too,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  rifles 
stand  loaded  in  the  house  of  every  white  settler,  "in 
case" — and  that  disputes  over  the  ownership  of  land  are 
unpleasantly  frequent.  ...  A  strange  state  of  affairs 
— ^Alsatia  and  Arcadia  combined.  There  ought  to  be  a 
useful  moral  attaching  to  this,  I  am  qtiite  sure,  but  I 
have  never  been  able  to  find  it — which  is  a  pity,  because 
morals  of  all  kinds,  in  the  tropics,  are  like  ice — valuable, 
scarce,  and  evanescent,  and  therefore  not  to  be  wasted. 

In  the  spring  of  1906,  some  time  after  I  had  left  the 
islands,  the  Anglo-French  Convention,  at  that  time 
sitting  in  London,  came  to  certain  decisions  about  the 
New  Hebrides.  It  was  arranged  that  a  mixed  com- 
mission should  consider  the  various  disputes  about  the 
ownership  of  land  in  the  group,  and  that  courts  of  justice 
should  be  held  for  the  trial  of  offenders,  when  necessary. 

Regarding  the  question  of  annexation,  no  progress 
whatever  was  made.  It  had  been  hoped  that  some 
division  of  the  islands,  at  least,  might  have  been  pro- 
posed, but  the  entente  cordiale  evidently  stood  in  the  way, 


AN  ANGLO-FRENCH  DILEMMA  151 

where  vexed  and  thorny  questions  were  to  be  discussed, 
and  the  upshot  was  that  in  all  essential  matters,  the 
islands  were  left  as  they  had  been  before — no  man's 
land  at  present,  and  France's  land  by-and-by. 

There  is  no  use  in  commenting  on  such  a  state  of 
affairs,  since  the  conclusions  to  be  drawn  therefrom  are 
plain  enough  to  anyone  interested  in  matters  of  the 
kind.  But  it  is,  perhaps,  worth  while  observing  that 
the  effect  on  the  progress  of  the  islands  toward  civilisa- 
tion is,  apart  from  political  questions,  entirely  blocked 
by  the  absence  of  all  real  authority  over  the  natives.  I 
do  not  think  that  the  most  fervent  advocate  of  the  rights 
of  the  natural  man  could  uphold  the  claims  of  the  un- 
tamed New  Hebridean  to  the  freedom  of  his  forefathers, 
or  sentimentalise  in  this  case  over  the  "noble  wild  man" 
doomed  to  bow  beneath  the  yoke  of  an  oppressive  civilisa- 
tion. The  New  Hebridean,  in  his  native  state,  is  neither 
more  nor  less  than  a  murderous,  filthy,  and  unhappy 
brute.  Tamed,  cleaned,  restrained  from  slaying  his 
acquaintances  either  wholesale  or  retail,  and  allowed 
to  live  his  life  in  peace  on  his  own  bit  of  ground,  he  is  a 
passable  poor  relation  of  the  Maori  or  the  Zulu,  and  can 
even  get  on  comfortably  with  his  white  neighbours, 
growing  and  drying  copra  for  them  to  buy,  or  doing  a 
little  casual  plantation  work,  and  so  collecting  enough 
money  to  furnish  himself  with  tobacco,  matches,  soap, 
cotton-stuff  for  the  minimum  of  clothing  that  he  wears, 
ship's  biscuit  and  tea  and  a  bit  of  tinned  salmon  now 
and  then,  a  rough  lamp  for  his  hut  and  oil  to  burn  in  it, 
and  a  pot  or  two  for  cooking.  These  are  practically  all 
the  luxuries  of  civilisation  that  the  average  islander  has 
any  desire  for,  but  their  possession  marks  an  immense 
stride  in  the  scale  of  progress  for  the  "reclaimed"  native 
who  gets  so  far. 


152  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

At  the  present  date,  there  is  the  merest  fringe  of  such 
life,  scattered  about  an  impenetrable  mass  of  utter  bar- 
barism. The  missionaries,  in  sixty  years'  work,  have 
contrived  to  tame  down  completely  a  few  of  the  smallest 
islands,  and  to  make  a  little  impression  here  and  there 
upon  the  edges  of  the  larger  ones.  But,  in  spite  of  the 
work  done  by  missions,  the  fact  remains — ^patent  to  all 
who  have  seen  the  islands  as  they  really  are,  both  on 
and  off  the  steamer  routes — that  the  New  Hebrides  will 
never  be  completely  tamed  except  by  force.  Once 
that  is  done — once  the  power  of  the  mountain  and  bush 
tribes  is  thoroughly  broken,  and  their  prestige  among 
the  lowlanders  taken  quite  away — the  work  of  the  mis- 
sionaries will  go  on  toward  something  more  like  an 
encouraging  result  than  it  can  show  to-day.  The  lives 
of  the  white  settlers  will  be  safe ;  property  will  be  secure ; 
trade  will  be  uninterruptedly  carried  on,  and  the  group 
will  be  twice  as  well  worth  having  as  it  is  to-day;  while 
into  one  of  the  darkest  spots  on  the  surface  of  the  earth, 
the  light  of  civilisation  and  decency  will  have  been 
carried. 

I  do  not  wish  to  minimise  the  work  of  the  mission- 
aries, though  one  must  allow  that  there  is  a  good  deal 
less  of  the  martyr  about  it,  even  here,  in  the  worst 
of  the  Pacific  Islands,  than  the  popular  fancy  imagines. 
But  one  would  certainly  wish  to  see  it  carried  on  hand 
in  hand  with  the  work  of  a  strong  and  able  government, 
which  could  forbid  the  sale  of  poisonous  spirits  to  the 
natives,  disarm  the  tribes,  compel  traders  to  cease 
selling  rifles  and  ammunition,  and  impartially  punish 
all  offenders,  white  or  black.  This  has  been  done 
to  a  great  extent  in  the  British  Solomons,  and  could 
be  done  in  the  New  Hebrides  without  any  real  difficulty 
if  they  were  once  annexed  or  partitioned. 


AN  ANGLO-FRENCH  DILEMMA  153 

Various  proposals  have  been  made  by  Australia 
and  New  Zealand  from  time  to  time,  with  the  view 
of  settling  this  long  unsettled  matter.  Australia  has 
certainly  little  right  to  talk,  since  she  has  of  recent 
years  practically  ruined  British  trade  in  the  New 
Hebrides,  by  imposing  heavy  duties  on  all  island  pro- 
duce that  enters  her  ports.  However,  one  of  her  propo- 
sitions, made  a  couple  of  years  ago  in  an  unofficial  manner, 
was  that  New  Zealand  should  give  over  the  Manihiki 
Islands  to  France,  for  the  undisputed  possession  of  the 
New  Hebrides.  No  one  seemed  to  be  aware  that  the 
suggestion  was  entirely  impracticable,  and  even  insulting 
to  France — since  the  Manihiki  Islands  consist  simply 
of  two  small  coral  atolls,  each  a  mere  strip  of  barren  land 
circling  about  a  central  lagoon  some  four  or  five  miles 
long.  Mr.  Seddon,  just  before  his  death,  suggested  the 
exchange  of  Mauritius  for  the  group.  This  was  a  better 
idea,  but  it  missed  the  main  point  of  the  difficulty — that 
the  New  Hebrides  and  New  Caledonia  must  be  con- 
sidered dependent  on  each  other,  and  that  any  offer 
of  exchange  should  be  based  on  an  acknowledgment 
of  this  fact.  In  any  case,  the  French  refused  to 
consider  it. 

French  opinion  in  the  group  is  plain.  Whatever 
the  official  utterances  of  France  may  be  as  to  the 
absence  of  all  desire  to  annex,  they  are  not  upheld 
by  the  colonists,  by  authorities  in  New  Caledonia,  or 
by  the  local  press.  All  these  are  loud  in  urging  annex- 
ation, and  jubilant  over  every  move  that  tends  toward 
the  desired  end.  Pressure  of  an  unobtrusive  sort 
has  been  put  upon  British  colonists  of  late.  The 
English  or  Australian  settler  often  finds  his  way  a  hard 
one,  unless  need  or  greed  drives  him  to  discard  his 
nationality,  and  take  out  French  papers  of  naturalisa- 


154  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

tion.  Then  all  is  smooth.  Duties  are  in  his  favour, 
instead  of  against  him,  subsidies  help  him  out,  enemies 
become  friends.  .  .  .  The  astonishing  thing  is  that 
the  British  colonists,  so  far,  have  taken  next  to  no 
advantage  of  this  state  of  things.  Their  flag  is  an 
expensive  luxury,  but  they  stick  to  it. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  NEW  HEBRIDES 

New  Hehridean  Natives — Life  in  an  Explosive  Magazine — 
The  Delights  of  Dynamite  Fishing — The  Sapphire 
and  Snow  of  Mele — On  a  Coffee  Plantation — Plan 
to  Eat  a  Planter — The  Recruiting  System — The 
Flowering  of  the  Coffee 

POLITICS  apart,  it  was  the  Islands  again,  and  I  was 
glad,  for  I  had  learned  to  love  the  island  world. 
Yet  it  was  not  the  Islands  as  I  had  known  them,  in  the 
dreamy  Eastern  Pacific,  and  in  quaint  Fiji,  the  link 
between  East  and  West.  Where  were  my  island 
friends,  my  sunny-faced,  subtle-minded  brown  Tongans 
and  Samoans — gay  Aitutakians,  Raretongans,  Manihi- 
kians,  pleasant  folk  of  Kandavu  and  Mbau,  comical 
Niueans,  lovely  women  of  far  Tahiti,  with  their  rose 
and  lilac  tunics,  their  welcoming  songs,  their  merry 
laughter?  Ill  substitutes  indeed  were  these  ugly 
creatures  with  fiat  savage  features  and  unkempt  hair, 
paddling  silently  about  the  ship  in  ill-made  log  canoes, 
wearing  scarcely  a  rag  apiece,  and  staring  at  the  strangers 
with  sulky  ungenial  faces?  Most  of  the  men  had  rifies 
on  their  shoulders,  and  bandoliers  of  cartridges  across 
their  naked  chests.  All  were  silent,  sullen,  ugly. 
The  Islands — yet  not  the  Islands,  as  I  had  known  them, 
for  my  island  friends  were  not  there. 

Coffee-coloured  gentlemen  of  the  Western  Islands — 
Fijian  chiefs  with  manners  that  would  not  disgrace  a 

155 


156  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

royal  drawing-room,  and  wise,  kindly,  well-bred  faces — 
who  could  classify  you  in  the  same  scale  of  creation 
as  these  gorilla-like  creatures?  It  is  true  that  in  Vila, 
nearly  all  the  natives  one  sees  have  been  civilised  and 
Christianised,  after  a  fashion,  at  the  hands  of  the  Pres- 
byterian or  Catholic  missionaries.  But  in  many  cases 
the  Christianity  is  wearing  very  thin,  and  constant 
association  with  the  unregenerate  heathen  of  the  plan- 
tations, who  are  usually  recruited  from  the  cannibal 
islands  further  north,  does  not  tend  to  strengthen  what 
little  piety  the  converts  possess.  The  popular  idea 
of  the  New  Hebridean,  for  a  wonder,  comes  very  near 
the  truth.  He  is  supposed  to  be,  and  is,  treacherous, 
murderous,  and  vindictive.  He  is  to  the  full  as  sensual 
and  indolent  as  the  Eastern  Islander,  and  lacks  almost 
every  virtue  possessed  by  the  latter.  He  is  almost 
inconceivably  clumsy  and  stupid  in  a  house,  or  on 
a  plantation;  almost  devoid  of  gratitude,  almost 
bare  of  natural  affection;  ready  to  avenge  the  smallest 
slight  by  a  bloody  murder,  but  too  cowardly  to  meet 
an  enemy  face  to  face.  Yet  there  are  a  few  things 
to  say  in  his  favour.  He  is  wonderfully  honest — 
so  much  so,  that  in  the  bush  districts,  a  coin  or  a  lump 
of  tobacco  found  by  the  wayside  will  never  be  appro- 
priated by  the  finder,  but  will  be  placed  in  a  cleft  stick 
at  the  edge  of  the  track,  for  the  real  owner  to  take 
next  time  he  may  chance  to  pass  that  way — and  if 
the  possessor  never  returns,  the  "find"  will  remain 
where  it  has  been  placed  until  some  white  man,  or 
some  "civilised"  native  from  a  plantation,  passes  by 
and  appropriates  it. 

In  some  cases,  the  New  Hebridean  is  found  capable 
of  receiving  education,  filling  the  post  of  plantation 
overseer,  or  learning  to  be  a  good  house  servant;  though 


THE  NEW  HEBRIDES  157 

such  instances  are  very  rare.  The  people  of  Aneityum 
and  Erromanga,  being  Christianised  and  civihsed  as  far 
as  is  possible  to  the  race,  have  reached  a  general  level 
about  equal  to  that  of  an  intelligent  English  child  of  five 
or  six;  Vila  is  quite  a  civilised  spot,  as  far  as  it  goes, 
and  in  none  of  the  Christianised  districts  of  the  group 
is  any  malicious  attack  to  be  feared  by  the  traveller. 

For  all  that,  the  capital  and  the  small  settled  districts 
on  the  other  side  of  Efat^  are  not  quite  the  safest  places 
in  the  world.  People  who  are  nervous  about  firearms 
assuredly  cannot  enjoy  a  happy  existence  there.  Every 
native  has  a  gun,  and  almost  every  one  carries  it — ^loaded, 
cocked,  and  slung  about  at  every  conceivable  angle.  It 
is  only  intended  for  pigeons  and  flying-foxes,  but  that 
it  does  not  bring  down  nobler  game  any  day  in  the 
week  is  emphatically  a  matter  more  of  "good  luck  than 
good  guidance."  Some  weeks  before  my  arrival,  a 
Vila  trader,  peacefully  parting  his  hair  before  the  glass, 
was  interrupted  by  a  rifle  bullet,  which  sang  across  his 
room,  and  buried  itself  in  the  wall  beside  the  frame  of 
the  mirror.  The  trader,  not  being  troubled  with  nerves 
(few  people  are,  in  the  New  Hebrides,  else  they  would 
not  be  there),  calmly  finished  his  toilet,  and  then  picked 
the  bullet  out  of  his  wall,  as  a  trophy.  Not  long  after, 
the  Vila  missionary  gave  a  party,  and  asked  some  people 
over  from  the  mainland.  They  arrived  rather  late  for 
tea — giving  as  explanation  the  fact  that  they  had  been 
peppered  with  rifle  bullets  coming  across!  As  they 
could  not  make  out  where  the  shots  were  coming  from, 
they  thought  it  best  to  take  a  round,  though  convinced 
that  no  malice  was  intended.  This  kind  of  thing  is 
fairly  frequent;  but  little  harm  has  yet  been  done,  and 
no  one  seems  to  mind. 

"It  is  rather  like  living  in  a  nursery  full  of  naughty 


158  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

children,  all  armed  with  cocked  and  loaded  guns,  which 
you  mustn't  take  away  from  them,"  observed  the 
British  Resident  Commissioner  to  me  one  day. 

It  was  rather  more  like  living  in  an  explosive  maga- 
zine, to  my  mind.  As  the  islands  belong  to  nobody, 
and  the  British  and  French  Commissioners  are  only 
there  to  hold  a  "watching  brief"  for  their  respective 
countries,  without  possessing  any  real  governing  power, 
the  native  is  free  to  follow  his  ov/n  uncivilised  will, 
in  the  midst  of  stores  filled  with  firearms,  ammunition, 
and  explosives  of  many  kinds — all  of  which  are  specially 
intended  to  charm  the  hard-earned  plantation  wages 
out  of  his  pocket.  (Yes,  he  has  a  pocket,  though 
sometimes  it  comprises  almost  all  his  clothes,  with 
a  boar's  tusk  on  the  breast,  and  a  pig's  tail  in  each 
ear,  for  style.)  Dynamite,  for  fishing  purposes,  is 
sold  by  the  stick  as  freely  as  tobacco,  and  handled 
without  the  smallest  care.  Percussion  caps,  loose 
gunpowder  for  the  old-fashioned  muskets  that  so  many 
natives  own,  cheap  sulphur  matches,  and  cartridges 
of  many  kinds,  seem  to  be  necessaries  of  life  to  most 
of  the  islanders,  and  are  stored  anywhere  and  anyhow. 
It  is  not  much  to  be  wondered  at  that  one-armed  and 
one-handed  men  are  rather  common  sights  about  Vila, 
nor  that  the  piles  of  squared  coral  stone  that  mark 
the  native  graveyards,  under  the  seaward-looking  palms 
by  the  shores  of  the  green  lagoon,  should  hide  beneath 
their  rudely  fashioned  cairns  the  tale  of  many  a  worse 
disaster. 

"Dynamite  fishing  is  real  good  sport,  but  it's  a  nice 
job,  mind  you,"  observed  a  member  of  the  Australian 
trader  family  with  whom  I  had  arranged  to  board  during 
m}^  sta}^  in  Vila.  "  I'm  pretty  good  at  it  myself,  but  I've 
seen  things  happen.     .     .     .     There's  some  of  them  at 


THE  NEW  HEBRIDES  159 

it  now;  there's  always  a  few  out.  Come  on  the  back 
veranda  and  I'll  show  you." 

I  went  out  as  requested,  and  saw  the  commonest 
sight  of  Vila  Harbour — a  canoe  lying  in  the  water  near 
the  shore,  a  native  putting  a  match  to  something,  and 
throwing  it  into  the  sea;  a  dull  booming  explosion 
and  a  fountain  of  updriven  water,  and  then  a  scrambling 
and  scooping  over  the  side  of  the  canoe. 

"So  that's  dynamite  fishing?" 

"Yes.  Capital  fun  too.  You  put  a  bit  of  fuse 
on  to  the  end  of  a  stick  of  dynamite — a  short  bit,  mind 
you — and  then  you  light  it  and  chuck  it  away.  It 
kills  a  lot  of  fish,  if  it  explodes  close  enough  to  the  water. 
The  natives  cut  the  fuse  too  short,  sometimes,  they're 
that  careless,  and  then  things  happen.  One  wants  to 
cut  right,  and  throw  right.  If  the  fuse  is  too  long,  the 
sea  will  touch  it  before  it's  had  time  to  explode  the  cap; 
and  if  you  throw  too  far  away,  the  explosion's  over 
before  it  nears  the  water.  Some  fellers  they  "sky" 
the  stuff,  so's  they  can  let  it  have  a  longish  fuse,  but  I 
know  a  cove  who  skied  it  too  straight,  and  got  it  right 
in  the  boat  again.  What  happened?  Well,  what  *d 
you  expect?  .  .  .  The  sharks  were  handy  about,  and 
they  cleared  up  the  mess.  Another  feller,  he  bit  the  ash 
off  the  fuse  with  his  teeth,  and  the  native  boys  that  was 
left  in  the  boat  didn't  think  it  worth  while  bringing 
of  him  home  without  his  head,  so  they  took  the  boat 
and  scooted  to  their  own  island.  I  know  all  about  it, 
though,  and  you'd  better  come  out  with  me  if  you'd 
like  to  learn.  It's  worth  your  while,  too,  for  you  can't 
do  it  in  most  islands;  governments,  when  there  is  such 
a  thing,  alwa3'S  puts  a  stopper  on  it  right  off." 

There  is  a  trader  in  Vila  to-day  who  has  a  very  poor 
opinion  of  the  courage  of  Englishwomen — I  shall  not 


i6o  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

say  why.  But — I  have  never  learned  to  fish  with 
dynamite,  and  I  am  still  happily  possessed  of  both 
my  arms,  and  all  my  head.  And,  now  that  many 
months  have  passed  since  I  sailed  away  from  the  explosive 
New  Hebrides,  I  find  myself  able  at  last  to  avoid  the 
insane  tendency  to  pick  up  my  skirts  and  hurry  inland, 
that  used  to  beset  me  at  first,  whenever  I  saw  a  harmless 
boatful  of  fishing  excursionists,  gliding  along  a  placid 
British  shore. 

But,  after  all,  Vila  and  its  surroundings  were  not 
what  I  had  come  to  see.  So,  after  a  week  or  two  spent 
in  the  "capital,"  I  decided  to  leave  behind  its  stores 
and  street,  its  lumbering  drays  laden  with  sacks  of  maize 
and  coffee  for  the  steamer,  its  Continental-looking 
restaurant  and  caf^,  its  smart,  sallow,  well-dressed 
women  (a  Frenchwoman  will  "make  her  toilet"  even 
in  the  Cannibal  Isles) — and  ride  away  into  the  bush, 
where  the  coffee-growing  count -y  was,  and  one  might 
see  New  Hebridean  plantation  life  at  its  worst  and  best. 

The  morning  was  dim  and  pearly,  and  the  harbour 
lay  in  long  unruffled  levels  of  crystal-gray,  under  the 
shadow  of  green,  gold-crested  islands,  when     . 

No,  I  cannot  tell  a  lie.  That  was  certainly  the  time 
of  day,  and  the  scene  that  should  have  witnessed  our 
setting  off.  It  would  have  been,  in  any  decent  book. 
But  we  didn't  set  off  in  a  book,  my  two  English  planter 
escorts  and  myself.  We  set  off  in  the  actual  dust  of 
the  scorching  Mele  road,  at  half-past  eleven  instead  of 
six,  just  when  the  sun  was  at  its  very  worst,  the  green 
islands  gray  with  heat,  and  the  harbour  almost  too 
glaring  to  look  at,  from  under  the  brim  of  a  wide-leafed 
plantation  hat.  And  if  anyone  wishes  to  know  why, 
that  person  had  better  try  how  long  it  takes  to  get 


THE  NEW  HEBRIDES  i6i 

three  people  and  three  horses  off  in  the  morning,  when 
there  is  a  big  journey  ahead.  If  he  has  tried,  he  will 
not  need  to  ask. 

Undine  Bay  was  our  destination,  thirty  miles  away, 
and  we  all  carried  our  goods  with  us — ^baskets  and 
saddle-bags  containing  clothes,  food,  billy-cans,  and 
other  et  ceteras,  so  that  we  looked,  as  we  cantered  along 
the  dusty  track  in  single  file,  like  Alice's  White  Knight 
multiplied  by  three.  Our  horses  were  nothing  to  boast 
of.  Mine,  not  to  embroider  upon  the  humble  truth, 
was  a  cart-horse,  nothing  more.  Indeed,  one  might 
well  have  wished  him  less,  for  he  was  certainly  over 
sixteen  hands,  and  had  the  paces  of  a  hippopotamus, 
but  he  was  the  only  four-legged  beast  to  be  had  for 
hire  in  Vila,  so  choice  there  was  none.  Of  his  various 
iniquities  during  that  long,  long,  burning  ride — of  his 
utter  disregard  of  whip,  heel,  or  rein — ^his  iron  neck 
and  jaw  of  cast  steel — his  unpardonable  habit  of  trying 
to  scrape  me  off,  like  an  inconvenient  barnacle,  under 
the  boughs  of  thorny  lemon-trees — his  blunder-headed 
trampling  on,  after  a  million-hooked  "bush-lawyer" 
vine  had  fished  for  me  and  caught  me,  and  was  tearing 
agonising  bits  out  of  my  flesh — his  heavy-hoofed  sliding- 
down  nightmare  descents,  and  low-bred,  snorting  panic 
in  deep  boggy  fords — of  all  these,  I  shall  say  nothing 
The  "  gentlemen  of  England,  who  sit  at  home  at  ease  " — on 
properly  broken  horses,  and  never  know  from  the  cradle 
to  the  grave  why  you  carry  a  tomahawk  in  bush  riding, 
and  what  happens  if  you,  or  your  escort,  don't  use  it 
quick  enough — these  pampered  people  would  not  under- 
stand. .  .  .  Yet  we  who  have  experienced  such  things 
are  the  happier,  for  it  is  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  blood, 
gentlemen ;  and  some  of  you  who  read  .nis  page  without 
understanding,    will   come   to   your   own   one   day  ^^'ith 


i62  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

the  creak  of  the  high-pommelled  saddle  under  you, 
and  all  about  you  the  scent  of  the  unbroken  forest  where 
no  man's  foot  has  passed.     Then  you,  too,  will  know. 

I  had  travelled  the  South  Seas  over  and  over  before 
I  came  to  Efat6,  but  never  from  Papeete  to  Penrhyn, 
and  from  Tutuila  to  Savage  Island,  had  I  seen  such 
colouring  as  I  saw  that  day  on  M^e  beach,  where  we 
rode  along  the  shore  before  we  turned  into  the  forest. 
It  was  an  immense  beach  of  powdered  coral,  miles 
long,  and  hundreds  of  yards  wide,  and  it  was  so  ex- 
ceedingly white  in  the  raging  sun  that  its  scoops  and 
shadows  were  blue  of  ultramarine,  like  the  shadows 
on  a  plain  of  snow.  You  could  see  the  colour  of  the 
air  as  you  rode  across  this  wide  white  plain,  and  it 
was  blue,  clear  blue,  as  though  you  swam  in  water. 
Sapphire  and  snow  was  the  whole  marvellous  picture — 
the  foreground  was  one  huge  sweep  of  blinding  white, 
the  mountains  far  away  were  blue,  the  sea  was  blue 
the  sky  was  blue — the  shallow  lagoon  was  shot  with 
unnameable  hues  of  changing  hyacinth,  and  M6\6  island, 
floating  on  a  crystal  plain,  was  one  entire  and  perfect 
turquoise.  ...  A  very  miracle  of  colouring,  flung 
down  by  Nature  like  a  gauntlet  of  defiance  in  the  face 
of  the  luckless  traveller  whose  trade  it  is  to  juggle  with 
words — "Draw  that;  tell  that  that,  if  you  can!"  ran 
the  challenge.  .  .  .  Spirit  of  wonderful  Mel6 !  I  have 
not  told,  for  I  could  not. 

After  we  left  the  beach  of  M^le,  we  rode  for  ever 
and  for  ever,  or  so  it  seemed,  through  the  bush,  over 
narrow  foot-tracks  that  only  admitted  our  party  in 
Indian  file.  The  light  was  dim  and  green  most  of  the 
day,  for  the  New  Hebridean  "bush"  is  true  tropical 
forest,  and  the  sun  cannot  pierce  its  dense  roofing  of 


THE  NEW  HEBRIDES  163 

leafage  and  knotted  liana.  Great  banyans,  their  out- 
running branches  supported  by  companies  of  close- 
ranked  pillars,  made  strange  imitations  of  shrines  and 
temples  in  the  shadowy  depths  of  the  wood.  Enormous 
trees,  whose  names  I  never  knew,  shot  up  dark  colossal 
trunks  with  plank-partition  roots  buttressed  as  high 
as  our  heads.  Leaves  of  the  wild  taro  plant,  sappy 
and  juic}^  lifted  giant  hands  of  green,  as  large  as  a 
tea-table,  on  nine-foot  stalks.  Strange  reddish  figs, 
odd  pink  and  yellow  berries,  showed  in  the  undergrowth, 
some  poisonous,  some  good  for  food;  and  wild  nuts 
and  almonds  of  many  kinds,  without  a  recognised 
name,  crackled  on  the  ground  under  our  horses'  hoofs. 

.  .  .  At  night,  nearing  our  destination,  we  plodded 
across  a  plain  of  dry  rustling  reed-grass,  where  wild 
boars,  feeding  upon  wild  yams,  crashed  and  snorted 
aside  at  the  sound  of  our  horses'  hoofs.  Roast  pig 
and  roast  potato,  fat  parrots  and  wood-pigeons;  cocoa- 
nuts,  almonds  and  fruit  in  the  woods;  fish  from  the 
lagoon — ^when  the  uncultivated  land  and  unrented  sea 
provide  so  much  as  this  for  the  mere  trouble  of  taking 
and  cooking,  can  it  be  wondered  at  that  labour  for  the 
white  man's  plantations  has  sometimes  to  be  recruited 
by  methods  that  do  not  exactly  send  up  a  sweet  savour 
to  heaven? 

Plantation  life  in  the  New  Hebrides,  however,  is 
peaceful  and  pleasant  enough — on  the  surface.  When 
you  live  very  many  miles  from  your  nearest  white 
neighbour — when  you  and  your  black  labourers  are 
cut  off  from  all  the  rest  of  the  earth  by  a  belt  of  densest 
jungle  on  one  hand,  and  a  bar  of  sailless  sea  on  the 
other — it  comes  about,  for  the  most  part,  that  you 
grow  to  be  easily  pleased,  and  contented  w^ith  little. 
The  planter's  wife  and  family  are  far  more  to  him  than 


i64  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

the  city  man's;  they  are  all  his  social  circle — it  is  his 
own  sons  who  smoke  and  talk  politics  with  him  in  the 
evenings,  and  his  own  daughters  who  make  concerts 
with  the  old  harmonium  and  the  new  violin,  and  hang 
out  spring  exhibitions  of  pictures  on  the  walls,  and 
get  the  new  books  and  magazines  down  from  Sydney 
to  make  a  small  "home  literary  circle,"  all  under  the 
one  galvanised-iron  roof.  And  the  mother — well,  there 
is  time  to  recall  the  long-gone  hours  of  youth,  in  these 
endless  island  days;  and  women,  for  all  the  fever  and 
the  climate,  and  the  hard  work  over  hot  stoves  that 
cannot  be  left  to  the  charge  of  native  servants,  don't 
lose  their  charm  in  the  isolated  jolantation  life  as  fast  as 
they  lose  it  in  the  rush  and  strain  of  society.  .  .  .  Yes, 
they  keep  their  complexions  better  in  Melbourne  or 
Wellington,  and  there  is  a  smarter  twist  to  a  ribbon, 
down  there,  and  a  more  fashionable  coil  of  the  hair, 
but  .  .  .  Nature  knows  many  things  she  does  not 
tell  to  the  city-dweller,  and  it's  not  so  lonely  in  the  bush 
after  all,  for  a  married  pair  who  learned  long  years  ago 
that  they  have  made  no  mistake.  For  the  others— -well, 
you  do  not  find  them  in  the  lonely  forest  homes. 
He  is  trading  somewhere  along  the  coast;  she  is  with 
her  friends  in  Sydney,  because  the  children  must  be 
educated,  and  the  islands  never  suited  her  health,  in  any 
case.  There  is  nothing  like  the  bush  for  testing  to  its 
farthest  limit  the  strength  of  that  "silver  link"  and 
"silken  tie." 

Very  early,  in  the  brief  cool  hours  of  the  day,  the 
planter  and  his  sons  are  off  on  their  horses,  after  a 
cup  of  the  fresh  perfumed  coffee  made  from  berries 
gathered  in  the  woods  below.  All  morning  they  are 
walking  and  riding  about,  overseeing  the  labour,  giving 
orders      as      to     pruning,     planting,     gathering.        At 


THE  NEW  HEBRIDES  165 

midday  they  ride  home  to  a  bath  and  an  early  dinner — 
salt  meat,  tinned  meat,  or  a  bit  of  goat  for  a  treat; 
wild  tomatoes  and  peppers;  a  pudding  made  from 
the  arrowroot  that  grows  in  the  garden  (and  if  you 
think,  you  people  in  Europe,  that  you  get  real  arrow- 
root when  you  pay  for  it,  come  to  an  island  plantation 
and  learn  the  difference) ;  oranges  and  bananas,  also 
from  the  garden;  baker's  bread,  made  by  the  ladies 
of  the  house,  who  are  the  only  cooks.  .  .  .  One  is  not 
luxurious,  on  a  coffee  plantation,  but  there  is  all  a  man 
may  reasonably  want. 

The  heat  of  the  day  is  now  at  its  worst,  and  the 
planter  takes  a  nap  in  his  long  chair,  while  his  wife, 
tired  with  cooking,  dozes  on  the  cane  sofa.  The  daughter 
says  she  is  going  to  have  an  attack  of  fever,  but  will  be 
out  for  tea — and  goes  off  to  her  own  room  to  spend  an 
unhappy  few  hours  of  sickness  and  shivering.  Every 
one  expects  a  dose  of  this  kind  now  and  then,  and  takes 
it  as  all  in  the  day's  work.  There  is  not  much  fever 
on  this  especial  plantation,  but  on  others  lower  down 
it  is  so  bad  that  a  yearly  visit  to  the  colonies  is  a  necessity, 
to  keep  the  owners  in  passable  health. 

Evening  sees  the  men  back  from  a  second  ride  about 
the  estate,  the  daughter  recovered,  tea  on  the  table, 
the  sun  down,  and  the  short  tropic  day  over.  By- 
and-by  there  will  be  music;  at  present,  there  is  talk.  Not 
of  "news" — the  green  rampart  of  the  forest  and  the 
blue  bar  of  the  sea  shut  off  all  the  outer  world,  and 
save  at  steamer-time  once  a  month,  empires  may  rise 
and  fall,  and  kings  may  die,  but  the  plantation  knows 
not  of  it.  The  talk  is  of  the  happenings  of  the  day — 
and  startling  enough  some  of  them  are,  to  a  stranger  ear. 
"That  big  chap  from  Sou'-West  Bay  is  sick — tree 
fell  on  him." 


i66  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

"   Is  he?     The  fellow  that  tried  to  axe  me  last  week ? " 

"Oh  no,  not  that  one.  It's  the  fellow  you  found 
sneaking  behind  the  cook-house  on  Sunday  morning." 

"Hope  it'll  keep  him  out  of  mischief,  then;  he's 
as  cheeky  as  they  make  them.  He'd  no  business  at 
the  house." 

"Hadn't  you  better  shift  your  bed?"  asks  one  of  the 
ladies,  sugaring  his  tea. 

"  No,  rather  not !  sick  or  well,  he's  a  rotten  bad  shot." 

I  ask  for  an  explanation,  and  am  told  that  the  labour 
imported  at  a  wage  of  forty  shillings  yearly  from  the 
wild  cannibal  parts  of  the  group,  grows  unmanageable 
at  times,  and  is  prone  to  avenge  small  slights  by  shoot- 
ing its  employers — preferably  after  dark,  through  the 
bedroom  window. 

"  No  one  likes  that  fellow,  I  think,"  says  the  daughter 
of  the  house,  conversationally.  "Why,  it  was  only 
the  other  day  that  I  caught  Ata,  the  kitchen-girl,  putting 
rat-poison  in  his  rice  to  kill  him.  I'm  afraid  she's  an 
ill-natured   girl   herself." 

"What  did  you  do?  and  don't  you  think  she  may 
poison   you  some  day?"   asks  the  guest  with  interest. 

"Oh,  I  boxed  her  ears,  and  threw  away  the  rice. 
She  won't  poison  us;  of  course,  we  keep  the  poisons 
locked  up — I  really  don't  know  how  she  got  at  that!" 

"Our  boys  aren't  a  bad  lot,  but  I  do  think  young 

X might  be  a  little  more  careful  with  some  of  those 

he's  got,"  observes  my  host.  "He  lives  down  in  the 
bay,  you  know.  An  Aurora  man  of  his  has  laid  for 
him  twice  with  a  tomahawk — ^fellow  that  has  murdered 
three  natives  already — and  X has  him  as  house- 
boy,  just  to  show  him  he  doesn't  care.  Of  course,  one 
doesn't  want  to  send  away  a  good  strong  boy  because 
he's  made  a  swipe  at  you  with  an  axe,  or  lifted  a  gun 


THE  NEW  HEBRIDES  167 

at  you,  but  it's  more  sensible  not  to  have  him  in  the  house 
when  you  hve  alone,  as  he  does." 

"Q was  uncommonly  near  getting  it  from  one 

of  his  lot,"  observes  the  son,  spooning  guava  jelly 
liberally  on  to  his  plate.  "It  was  quite  a  funny  thing. 
Seems   they'd   planned   to   shoot   him   from   the   scrub, 

and  take  his  body  off  into  the  bush  to  eat  (Q never 

could  make  his  men  respect  him,  to  my  mind),  and 
I'm  blessed  if  the  cunning  beggars  didn't  clear  a  path 
ready  to  carry  him  away;    cut  it  all  but  the  last  yard, 

and  left  that  to  hide  the  opening.       Well,  Q had 

a  friend  who  happened  to  turn  up  in  a  boat  all  the  way 
from  Vila  for  a  call,  that  very  day,  and  the  two  of  them 
were  walking  about  the  estate  together  the  whole  after- 
noon; and  every  time  the  beggars  hid  in  the  scrub 
tried  to  pot  him,  the  friend  happened  to  be  in  the  way! 

Q heard  all  about  it  afterward,  and  he  simply  roared. 

So,  when  they  found  it  was  no  go,  they  got  tired  and 
cross,  just  like  they  do,  and  they  agreed  they  couldn't 
be  bothered   to  shoot  him,   but  they'd  steal  his  boat 

and  run  away.     And  they  did,  and  Q never  caught 

them.     Funny  story,   wasn't  it?" 

It  was  just  the  day  after  this,  that  an  invitation 
arrived   from   the   j^lantation   of   the   gentleman   whom 

I   have   called    X ,    to   luncheon   at   his   house.     It 

was  within  fairly  easy  riding  distance,  so  all  my  host's 
family  took  a  holiday,  and  we  rode  down  in  a  body. 

Mr.    X was    a    young    Oxonian,    not    twenty-four 

years  of  age,  who  had  been  through  most  of  the  Boer 
War,  and  found  himself  unable  to  settle  down  to  an 
office  life  at  home,  afterward.  Accordingly,  he  bought 
a  plantation  on  Efat^,  and  started  out,  with  the  assist- 
ance of  two  other  youths  (all  three  under  age  at  the 


i68  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

time),  to  handle  some  dozens  of  untamed  cannibals, 
run  a  good  many  acres  of  coffee  and  millet,  and,  like 
the  virtuous  youths  in  the  stories,  to  make  a  fortune. 
The  fortune,  owing  to  the  duties  lately  levied  against 
all  New  Hebridean  produce  by  Australia,  has  not  yet 
come,  and  the  white  partners  have  taken  up  other 
employment.  But  this  adventurous  young  Englishman 
remains  alone  among  his  men,  managing  the  plantation 
without  help,  and  quite  convinced  that  good  luck  is 
not  far  ahead.  .  .  .  These  are  the  things  that  mere 
schoolboys  of  the  British  race  can  do,  when  you  take 
them  away  from  the  grandmammas  and  aunts  at  home, 
and  turn  them  loose  in  the  wilderness  to  shift  for 
themselves. 

We  had  lunch,  and  a  very  good  lunch  too,  in  the 
planter's  little  one-storied  bungalow — built  by  those 
three  adventurous  boys  a  year  or  two  ago,  when  they 
first  took  up  the  land.  They  lived  meantime  in  a 
refuge  close  to  the  site  of  the  present  house — a  cavern 
that  might  have  come  straight  out  of  the  illustrations 
to  a  Ballantyne  boy's  book — ^big  as  a  church,  hung 
with  tapestry  of  trailing  green  vines  at  the  mouth, 
and  fitted  inside  with  a  natural  table  and  beds  of  rock. 
Did  ever  three  lads  in  their  teens  enjoy  a  more  complete 
realisation  of  a  "story"  life? 

The  lunch  was  not  at  all  badly  served,  by  a  fierce- 
eyed,  sullen  fellow  in  a  very  clean  shirt  and  kilt — who, 
as  our  host  triumphantly  assured  us,  was  the  much- 
discussed  murderer  himself. 

"That's  what  you  call  local  colour,  I  suppose," 
said  one  of  my  hosts,  evidently  pleased  to  have  the 
institutions  of  the  country  shown  off  for  my  benefit. 
(The  murderer  snatched  over  my  shoulder  for  my  empty 
plate.     He  was  a  good  waiter,  but  rather  brusque.) 


THE  NEW  HEBRIDES  169 

I  agreed  that  it  was. 

The  "  blackbirding "  days  are  gone  in  the  New 
Hebrides — the  gay  old  times  when  recruiting  schooners 
simply  kidnapped  the  men  they  wanted,  and  sold  them 
outright  vrherever  they  chose.  Nowadays,  the  men- 
of-war,  and  the  High  Commissioner  of  the  Western 
Pacific  (who  lives  in  Fiji,  six  or  seven  hundred 
miles  away),  keep  a  general  look-out  over  the  labour 
trade,  and  any  captain  who  carries  off  unwilling  natives 
by  force  runs  serious  risk.  Further,  the  French  and 
British  Commissioners  at  Vila  have  made  certain  regu- 
lations (which  is  very  funny,  when  one  comes  to  think 
of  it,  because  there  is  no  legal  machinery,  at  the  time 
of  writing,  for  enforcing  them),  and  these  regulations 
enact  that  the  plantation  labourers  shall  be  sufficiently 
fed,  honestly  paid,  and  allowed  to  return  to  their  own 
islands  at  the  end  of  their  three  years'  engagement. 
If  not — well,  there  is,  so  far,  no  court  and  no  prison 
in  the  islands.  One  must  suppose  that  the  Commis- 
sioners would  simply  "tell  the  man-of-war  of  you.  if 
you  don't  behave."  They  might  do  worse.  A  naval 
captain  has  remarkably  extensive  powers,  in  such 
out-of-the-way  places,  and  what  he  hasn't,  he  takes. 

Still,  in  the  lonely  jungle  clearings  of  these  great 
islands,  the  planter  is  able  to  act  very  much  as  his 
character  inclines  him  to  do.     Who  is  to  tell? 

My  hosts  were  kind  to  their  labour,  though  they 
did  not  treat  them  with  any  approach  to  sentimental 
indulgence.  But  there  were  other  stories.  The  British 
settlers  are  not  all  saints,  and  the  French  planters  are 
not  taken  from  a  good  class,  for  the  most  part — indeed, 
there  are  whispers  of  ticket-of-leaveism  here  and  there. 
Some  are  good  fellows,  humanely  inclined,  some  are — 
not.     Let   it   be   allowed   that   the   New   Hebridean   is 


lyo  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

a  devil,  and  a  murderous  devil  at  that — it  does  not 
improve  even  a  devil  to  underfeed  him,  abuse  and  flog 
him  for  the  smallest  cause,  and  count  his  life  worth 
nothing  more  than  the  few  pounds  you  have  paid  the 
schooner  captain  for  recruiting  him.  And  there  are 
plantations  on  Efat6  where  all  these  things  are  done; 
there  are  dark  stories  of  natives  kicked  or  beaten  to 
death,  or  so  ill-used  that  they  have  been  driven  to 
kill  themselves;  of  children  "recruited"  in  far-off  parts 
of  the  group,  and  sold  into  actual  slavery  for  life;  of 
house-servants  so  badly  treated  that  the  decent  French 
and  English  settlers  will  hardly  enter  the  bungalow 
w^here  they  are  employed.  In  truth,  a  solid,  settled 
government  of  some  kind  is  badly  needed,  on  parts  of 
civilised  and  Christianised  Efat^. 

It  would  be  untrue  to  say  either  that  the  labourers 
are  enslaved,  or  that  they  are  absolutely  free.  A  New 
Hebridean  from  the  wilds  of  the  bush  goes  off  with 
the  recruiting  schooner  very  much  as  an  English  rustic 
takes  the  shilling — for  the  most  part,  because  he 
wants  to  get  away  from  home  at  any  price,  and 
does  not  care  what  comes  after.  Like  the  rustic, 
he  is  usually  rather  sick  of  his  bargain  when  he  fully 
understands  what  he  has  done,  and  would  be  only 
too  glad  to  get  out  of  it  if  he  could,  before  the  end  of 
his  three  years'  term.  Fear  of  being  murdered  by 
some  personal  enemy  in  his  own  village  is  the  commonest 
cause  of  his  offering  himself  to  the  schooner;  some- 
times, however,  the  small  wage  of  two  pounds  or  so 
a  year  is  the  attraction,  if  he  sees  no  other  way  of  ob- 
taining that  vital  necessity  to  a  full-grown  New  Heb- 
ridean— a  rifle  and  a  stock  of  ammunition.  Some- 
times the  recruit  is  forced  into  the  bargain  by  powerful 
relatives,  who  desire  to  secure  the  presents  commonly 


THE  NEW  HEBRIDES  171 

given  to  the  family  of  each  man.  Often  enough,  he 
is  more  or  less  deceived  by  the  flowery  representations 
of  plantation  life  furnished  him  by  the  recruiting  cap- 
tains, who  commonly,  though  not  always,  obtain  a 
ten-pound  bonus  for  every  man  they  deliver.  Under 
proper  conditions,  however,  and  vigorously  overlooked, 
there  is  no  reason  why  the  New  Hebrides  labour  trade 
should  not  be  carried  on  in  as  just  and  satisfactory 
a  manner  as  the  Solomon  Islands  labour  trade  with 
Fiji.  There  will  always  be  men  ready  to  engage  for 
the  plantations,  especially  if  the  wages  and  food  could 
be  made  a  little  better  than  they  are;  and  with  effective 
supervision,  the  blots  that  at  present  disgrace  the  system 
would  vanish.  Even  as  things  are,  a  good  employer 
will  find  the  same  men  re-engaging  now  and  then  on  his 
plantation — though  very  seldom  without  an  interval  spent 
in  their  own  islands,  at  the  end  of  the  first  three  years. 

I  had  only  been  a  week  or  two  with  the  hosts  who 
had  asked  me  over  from  Vila  (entire  strangers  to  me, 
but  exceedingly  kind  and  hospitable),  when  a  message 
came  over  from  another  plantation  to  the  effect  that  the 

R s  had  had  the  visitor  long  enough,  and  they  were  to 

send  her  over  to  the  S s,  for  it  was  their  turn  now! 

The  S s  were  total  strangers  also,  and,  like  the  R s, 

had  only  incompetent  native  servants,  so  that  the  arrival 
of  a  guest  meant  considerable  trouble  to  the  family  them- 
selves. But  the  hospitality  of  the  islands  passes  lightly 
over  such  trifles — even  over  the  circumstance  of  having  to 
turn  a  daughter  out  of  her  bed,  and  leave  her  to  sleep  on 
the  floor,  while  the  stranger  guest,  cuckoo-like,  occupies 
the  couch  from  which  she  has  been  thrust  away! 

It  was  on  the  S plantation — one  of  the  loveliest 

spots  in  an  island  where  every  prospect  was  certainly 


172  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

pleasing,  and  only  the  plantation  hand  was  vile — 
that  I  saw  for  the  first  time  the  wonderful  picture  of 
fleeting  beauty  presented  by  the  flowering  of  the  coffee. 

A  coffee  plantation,  at  any  season,  is  very  like  a 
huge  ornamental  shrubbery.  Its  pretty  bushes,  with 
their  polished  dark-green  leaves,  are  quite  unsuggestive 
of  commerce,  and  the  scarlet  cherries,  of  which  the 
coffee   "bean"   forms  the  stone,   light  up  the  close-set 

[foliage  as  effectively  as  the  holly-berry  lights  its  tree. 

■  But  the  flowers  are  the  true  glory  of  a  plantation.  Once 
a  year  they  appear,  and  they  last  for  three  days  only, 
from  the  bursting  of  the  bud  to  its  withering  away — for 
but  one  day,  in  perfection.  All  at  once,  the  whole 
shrubbery  breaks  into  sprays  of  heavy  snow,  and  the 
air  is  filled  with  a  cloying  hothouse  sweetness — ^the  coffee 
blooms  are  out!  A  little  like  stephanotis,  a  little  like 
gardenia,  sweet  as  tuberose,  white  as  orange-blossom — 
there  is  surely  nothing  in  the  tropics  more  lovel3^than  the 
fair  and  fleeting  coffee  flower.  Who  first  thought  of 
bending  such  a  poetic  tree  to  the  uses  of  commerce  ?  Who 
divined  that  the  ugly  little  stone  in  the  scarlet  fruit  that 
was  child  of  the  wax-white  coffee  flower,  would  make  a 
drink  fit  for  the  gods  ?  .  .  .  I  shall  like  coffee  all  my 
life  the  better  for  having  seen  its  beautiful  beginnings. 
Even  the  ugly  untidiness  of  the  pulping-pits,  where, 
in  the  season,  the  berries  are  crushed  and  stirred  under 
a  stream  of  water,  to  detach  the  stones,  and  the  arid 
desert  of  the  drying- trays,  scorching  in  the  sun,  cannot 
altogether  deface  the  memory  of  the  lovely  blossom- 
time,  when  all  that  Milky  Way  of  scented  stars  breaks 
out  in  the  tropic  dawn,  to  its  one  day  of  perfect  life. 

Successful  as  some  of  the  New  Hebridean  planters 
have    been,     one    cannot    conscientiously    recommend 


■ .%  '^::^\mmi-jaMMililM'0^ 

■i^  ^^;'^— X  i 

COFFEE-DRVlXt 


COFFEE  IN  FLOWER 


THE  NEW  HEBRIDES  173 

British  youth  to  emigrate  to  these  islands  at  present. 
Business  is  certainly  not  on  the  up-grade.  The  mur- 
derous Australian  duties,  imposed  at  the  cry  of  the 
"White  Australia"  party  (I  did  mention  them  before, 
good  reader,  and  I  shall  mention  them  yet  again), 
have  ruined  many,  and  are  only  too  likely  to  hand  over 
a  number  of  new  citizens  to  France,  in  the  course  of 
the  next  few  years,  if  naturalisation  continues  to  be 
made  as  easy  and  profitable  as  it  is  at  present.  Tenure 
of  land  is  not  too  certain ;  tenure  of  life  no  better.  The 
waste  lands  made  available  for  use  by  the  gradual 
lessening  of  the  native  population  cannot  be  touched, 
since  the  New  Hebridean  will  have  none  of  the  white 
man  if  he  can  help  it.  The  island  fever — a  bad  form 
of  malaria — is  a  considerable  handicap,  though  it  could 
be  much  reduced  by  proper  precautions,  and  by  an  anti- 
mosquito  campaign  similar  to  that  at  present  being 
carried  out  in  West  Africa.  On  the  whole,  settlers  must 
be  recommended  to  keep  away,  until  something  further 
has  been  done  about  the  vexed  matter  of  ownership. 
When  that  is  once  settled,  one  can  honestly  advise  enter- 
prising young  Britons  to  secure  whatever  may  be  available 
of  the  rich  island  lands.  If  not  developed  by  the  pur- 
chaser, they  will  at  least  sell  again  at  a  profit  later  on. 
English  travellers,  on  the  other  hand,  if  the}^  are 
of  the  right  kind,  may  be  assured  that  they  will  find 
much  enjoyment  in  a  New  Hebridean  tour.  I  do 
not  assert  that  nervous  maiden  aunts,  or  stout  old 
gentlemen  devoted  to  their  dinners  and  their  clubs, 
would  enjoy  the  somewhat  lawless  atmosphere  of  the 
New  Hebridean  group — its  "plentiful  lack"  of  roads, 
its  occasional  shortage  of  fresh  food,  its  fevers,  lonely 
places,  and  unfriendly  natives.  But  those  who  do 
not    mind    undergoing    some    discomfort    and    risk,    for 


174  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

the  sake  of  marvellous  scenery,  many  adventures, 
and  some  of  the  strangest  sights  in  the  whole  world, 
will  do  well  to  try  these  islands  when  they  are  tired 
of  the  Congo  and  the  Amazon,  and  big  game  shooting 
in  the  Rocky  Mountains.  And  let  them  not  believe 
the  people  who  assure  them  that  they  cannot  and 
must  not  "stop  over,"  or  go  inland,  for  they  certainly 
should  and  can  do  both  of  these  things. 

Since  the  above  was  written,  certain  changes  have 
taken  place  in  the  administration  of  the  islands.  It 
would  be  too  much  to  say  that  they  are  entirely  peaceful 
and  safe,  or  that  order  is  satisfactorily  established,  but 
much  has  been  done  toward  both  ends.  The  liquor 
traffic  among  the  natives  has  been  practically  suppressed 
by  the  summary  action  of  the  British  and  French  men-of- 
war,  who  have  stopped  and  overhauled  every  vessel  carry- 
ing supplies  of  spirits,  and  confiscated  the  cargo.  The 
uncontrolled  shooting  among  the  natives  has  received 
a  strong  check  by  timely  displays  of  force.  In  Tanna, 
'  where  tribal  fighting  was  worst,  peace  has  been  prac- 
tically established  for  the  first  time  in  the  memory  of 
living  men.  Disarmament  is  proceeding  rapidly  all  over 
the  group,  through  the  systematic  confiscation  of  all 
gunpowder  and  cartridges  imported  by  either  English 
or  French,  the  native  weapons  being  thus  rendered  use- 
less to  their  owners.  In  all  these  matters,  English  and 
French  have  worked  successfully  together,  and  feelings 
of  rivalry  appear,  for  the  time,  to  have  passed  away. 

At  present  (April,  1907)  the  administration  of  the 
group  stands  on  a  somewhat  uncertain  footing.  The 
Commissioners,  English  and  French,  have  no  clearly 
defined  position,  and  not  much  power.  The  signing 
of  the  Convention,  however,  and  the  agreement  to  a 
joint  Protectorate,  have  handed  over  the  nominal  respon- 


THE  NEW  HEBRIDES  175 

sibility  for  order  to  the  civil  arm,  so  that  the  rough 
and  ready  (and  usually  most  effective)  justice  of  the 
men-of-war  will  not  in  future  play  any  very  notable  part 
in  the  pacification  of  the  islands.  It  is  obvious  that  one 
of  two  things  is  necessary  for  future  peace — more  law- 
making and  law-enforcing  powers  for  the  civil  authority, 
or  a  freer  hand  for  the  warships.  At  the  moment  there 
is  some  cause  to  fear  slipping  back.  Illegal  recruiting 
in  especial,  which  has  been  a  trouble  in  the  group,  but 
which,  for  the  time  at  any  rate,  has  been  effectively 
checked  by  the  vigorous  action  of  the  naval  authorities, 
is  likely  to  create  further  difficulties  in  the  future  unless 
a  strong  hold  is  kept  upon  the  offenders. 

Nothing  in  the  history  of  the  New  Hebrides  is  more 
striking  or  in  its  way  more  instructive  than  the  tale  of 
the  breaking-in  of  Tanna.  It  took  place  in  a  single  day 
of  October,  1906,  a  year  after  my  own  visit.  The  natives, 
who  had  systematically  disregarded  the  threats  and 
warnings  sent  them  from  time  to  time,  and  continued  their 
tribal  fighting  regardless  of  risk  to  the  whites,  awakened 
one  morning  to  find  H.  M.  S.  Pegasus  lying  off  the  east 
side  of  the  island,  and  the  French  warship  Vaucluse 
keeping  guard  on  the  west.  In  helpless  terror,  and 
certain  that  their  last  day  had  come,  they  sent  messengers 
down  to  the  mission-house  to  discover  what  hope 
remained.  They  were  told  that  a  meeting  of  the  chiefs 
was  desired  on  the  mission  ground  that  day,  and  that 
if  they  valued  their  lives  they  would  come.  A  crowd 
of  some  fifteen  hundred  people,  including  six  hundred 
armed  men,  answered  the  invitation,  and  sat  or  stood 
in  rows  on  the  rising  ground  of  the  mission  enclosure,  to 
hear  what  their  fate  might  be.  The  British  leader, 
Commander  D'Oyly,   addressed  the  crowd  through  an 


176  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

interpreter,  and  told  them  that  it  was  the  will  of  the  two 
great  nations  that  tribal  fighting  should  cease.  The 
island  was  surrounded,  and  no  mercy  would  be  shown 
to  the  people  if  they  did  not  enter  into  an  agreement 
to  keep  the  peace.  In  reply,  a  Tanna  warrior  begged 
to  know  whether  the  British  chief  was  "speaking 
strong."  They  had  heard  that  kind  of  thing  before,  he 
intimated,  but  nothing  came  of  it.  It  was  explained 
to  him  that  as  Malekula  had  been  served,  so  would 
Tanna  be  treated  unless  the  required  submission  was 
made.  The  illustration  was  pointed  enough,  and  the 
chiefs  came  in  and  swore  to  end  the  fighting — only  too 
eager  to  make  it  clear  that  they  gave  in  as  fully  and 
freely  as  possible.  Since  then  there  has  been  peace  in 
Tanna.  Many  chiefs  who  had  never  seen  each  other's 
faces  have  met  and  even  become  friendly,  though  but 
a  little  while  ago  they  were  stalking  each  other's  tribes 
in  ambush  and  in  the  dark,  murder  their  only  thought. 
If  the  present  state  of  affairs  proves  lasting,  Tanna 
will  be  fit  for  settlement  in  the  near  future — and  it  will 
repay  it. 

Regarding  the  much  discussed  Convention,  it  has 
now  become  known  that  the  hurried  signing  of  the  agree- 
ment was  necessitated  by  the  unexpected  intervention 
of  a  third  Power,  which  was  discovered  to  be  making 
large  purchases  of  land  in  the  group,  with  the  view  of 
acquiring  a  controlling  interest.  This  made  immediate 
action  inevitable.  None  the  less,  it  is  to  be  regretted 
that  matters  had  to  be  hurried  through  in  such  a  manner 
that  the  vital  questions  of  interest  in  the  different  islands, 
possible  exchange,  etc.,  could  not  receive  consideration. 
No  real  progress  will  be  possible  until  a  definite  con- 
clusion on  these  points  has  been  arrived  at. 


CHAPTER  X 

MALEKULA— AN  UNCANNY  PLACE 

Bound  for  Sou-West  Bay — The  Wandering  Steamer — The 
Marriage  Market  in  Malekula — An  Avenue  of  Idols — 
The  Unknown  Country — A  Stronghold  of  Savagery — 
Ten  Stick  Island 

AFTER  a  few  weeks  the  steamer  came  in,  and  my 
experience  of  plantation  life  ended.  I  was  bound 
now  for  Sou'-West  Bay,  in  Malekula,  but  it  was  not 
so  easy  to  reach  that  spot  as  the  local  maps  led  one  to 
suppose.  From  letters  written  at  the  time,  the  following 
extract  is  taken. 

"It  was  65  miles,  as  the  crow  flies,  to  Sou'-West 
Bay.  The  steamer,  being  neither  a  crow  nor  an  eagle 
as  to  speed,  covered  the  distance  between  Saturday 
afternoon  and  Thursday  morning  of  the  next  week. 
This  is  rather  below  her  usual  gait  among  the  northern 
islands,  but  still  good. 

"Time  does  not  exist  north  of  Efat^;  the  ship  strolls 
lazily  about  from  store  to  mission-house,  from  planter's 
to  trader's,  like  a  society  woman  trying  to  kill  the  hours 
making  calls.  She  stops  as  often  as  a  suburban  train, 
during  the  day,  and  at  night  sleeps  the  sleep  of  the  lazy 
in  a  comfortable  bay.  Mrs.  Missionary  Smith  has  a  new 
blouse  and  a  packet  of  hairpins  up  from  Sydney — the 
steamer  stops  and  delivers  them.  Mr.  Planter  Jones 
wants  the  vessel  to  call  and  take  his  boots  down  to  Aus- 
tralia  for  resoling — the  vessel  kindly  does.     Somebody 

177 


178  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

wants  to  give  a  dinner-party,  and  invites  everyone  on 
board  to  go — the  steamer  politely  makes  that  spot  her 
stopping-place  for  the  night,  and  everyone  is  pleased. 
There  is  no  limit  to  the  company's  obliging  amiability. 

"Like  the  mysterious  something  in  the  children's 
riddle,  that  went  'round  the  house,  and  round  the 
house,  without  ever  touching  the  house,'  we  went  round 
about  Epi,  until  it  seemed  as  if  the  island  had  hypnotised 
the  ship,  and  would  not  let  her  away.  We  called  at 
nineteen  hundred  and  seven  ports  on  this  island  (I 
speak  from  memory  only;  it  may  have  been  one  or 
two  under — or  over),  looked  in  on  Ambrym  and  Paama 
for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  began  doing  Malekula  with 
the  thoroughness  of  a  Cook's  tour.  We  were  now  in 
the  country  of  the  real  heathen,  but  the  stops  were  so 
short  (we  had  4,302  to  make,  I  believe,  that  it  was  impos- 
sible to  see  anything.  At  every  port  of  the  4,302,  and 
at  every  other  port  on  the  trip,  we  took  up,  or  landed, 
or  had  brought  on  to  the  boat  to  visit,  at  least  one  white 
Presbyterian  mission  baby. 

"It  rained  Presbyterian  babies  throughout  the 
whole  tour.  They  lay  on  saloon  sofas  sucking  bottles, 
they  flopped  on  smoking-room  seats  chewing  bananas, 
they  toddled  up  and  down  perilous  unprotected  decks, 
and  attempted  to  commit  suicide  over  precipitous 
rails,  and  wiped  their  small  hands  on  newly  painted 
ventilators,  and  cleaned  it  off  on  officers'  white  and 
gold  coats,  and  held  noisy  synods  of  their  own  in  private 
cabins,  with  boxes  of  sweets  representing  the  mission 
funds,  and  a  loud  diversity  of  opinion  as  to  the  proper 
application  thereof.  I  like  to  be  accurate,  above 
everything,  and  therefore  I  do  not  care  to  estimate 
the  probable  infant  Presbyterian  population  of  the 
New  Hebrides  as  over  four  or  five  thousand;    but  that 


THE  REMtiK  ISLAND  OF  WALA— XA  ilX  ES  COMEVG  HOME  TO  SLEEP 


HE  A\EXLE  OF  IDOLS 


MALEKULA— AN  UNCANNY  PLACE        179 

is  certainly  enough  to  pacify  any  possible  doubts  as 
to  the  supply  of  future  missionaries,  grown  on  the 
premises. 

"On  referring  to  the  mission  maps  I  find  that  the 
total  number  of  mission  stations  in  the  group  is  only 
forty-five.  There  must  be  something  wrong  some- 
where. I  cannot  pretend  to  disentangle  it.  The 
climate  of  the  New  Hebrides  is  notoriously  destructive 
to  the  memory,  and  the  thermometer  as  I  write  is  fast 
'  reaching  the  point  at  which  the  capability  to  be  exact 
melts  out  of  the  human  mind.  Before  it  quite  reaches 
that  figure  I  must  make  haste  to  state  that  things  are 
as  I  said — more  or  less — that  the  Presbyterian  baby 
is  the  principal  product  of  the  islands,  copra  and  coffee 
coming  a  good  way  after;  and  that  President  Roosevelt, 
if  he  undertook  a  trip  in  the  Tambo  or  the  Malaita, 
would  return  to  the  United  States  even  greener  with 
envy  than  with  sea-sickness. 

"Dates  disappear,  and  times  melt  away,  within 
sound  of  the  lazily  whispering  cocoa-palm.  I  do 
not  know  when  we  came  to  Wala,  a  strange  little  island 
off  the  coast  of  Malekula,  where  we  stopped  long  enough 
to  see  several  interesting  sights.  Enough  that  we  did 
arrive  there,  and  left  again  late  at  night,  having  been 
lucky  enough  to  see  what  hardly  any  tourist  has  time, 
as  a  rule,  to  visit — the  Sing-Sing  ground. 

"Wala  is  a  tiny  island,  closely  covered  with  thick 
bush.  One  can  easily  walk  all  round  it  in  half  an 
hour,  and  it  lies  only  a  few  hundred  yards  from  the 
mainland  of  the  great  island  of  Malekula,  over  thirty 
miles  long.  Yet  five  or  six  hundred  natives  sleep  on 
Wala  every  night,  spending  the  day  on  the  mainland 
attending  to  their  yam  plantations,  or  pigeon  shooting, 
and   coming  home  about  four  o'clock   in  a  huge  fleet 


i8o  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

of  canoes,  every  canoe  loaded  with  yams  and  other 
food,  and  decorated  with  a  rifle  set  up  in  the  bow. 

"The  Malekulan  never  stirs  abroad  without  his 
rifle — sometimes  an  old  army  Snider,  occasionally  a 
new  magazine  rifle  of  excellent  pattern,  costing  a  good 
many  pounds.  He  is  always  more  or  less  at  war,  after 
the  New  Hebridean  fashion,  which  is  murder,  plain 
and  plump.  No  one  is  ever  supposed  to  die  a  natural 
death;  poison  or  witchcraft  is  always  assumed  to  be 
the  cause  of  decease  when  a  man  passes  away  from 
sickness  of  any  kind,  and  such  a  death  demands  revenge 
just  as  loudly  as  an  actual  shooting.  So  it  comes  about 
that  the  whole  of  Malekula  is  engaged  in  carrying  out 
one  enormous  'vendetta' — all  by  means  of  treachery 
and  ambush.  Every  Malekula  man  goes  in  constant 
fear  of  his  life;  if  he  has  not  shot  anyone  lately,  or 
fallen  under  suspicion  of  charming  somebody's  life 
away,  there  are  sure  to  be  a  dozen  or  two  such  injuries 
scored  up  against  his  village  in  general,  and  one  man's 
death  is  as  good  as  another,  provided  he  belongs  to  the 
obnoxious  tribe. 

"For  this  reason  the  Wala  men  seek  safety  from  the 
fierce  bush  tribes  of  the  interior  by  sleeping  on  this  little 
fortress  isle,  that  lies  safely  out  from  land.  The  neigh- 
bouring island  of  Rano  is  unfriendly,  and  always  picking 
off  stray  Wala  men  when  the  canoes  meet  at  sea;  but 
that  is  better  than  running  the  gauntlet  of  thousands 
of  fierce  bushmen,  or  so  the  Wala  men  think. 

"Most  of  the  islanders  were  away  when  I  landed 
on  Wala,  and  went  for  a  sight-seeing  walk,  under  the 
guidance  of  a  passenger.  A  few  men  who  had  come 
home  early  wandered  about  the  shore,  w^earing  the 
national  dress  of  Malekula,  which  consists  of  a  cartridge 
belt    of    woven    pandanus    fibre,    drawn    tightly    round 


MALEKULA— AN  UNCANNY  PLACE         i8i 

the  waist,  a  boar's  tusk  suspended  round  the  neck, 
and  a  pig's  tail  in  each  ear.  One  man,  with  his  five 
wives,  was  just  coming  up  from  his  canoe,  the  women 
carrying  heavy  loads  of  yams  and  babies.  They  wore 
a  small  sash  round  the  middle,  and  a  few  beads,  trade 
and  native.  The  man  was  evidently  a  noble.  Only 
a  Malekulan  lord  can  afford  several  young,  attractive 
wives,  for  a  wife  costs  from  ten  to  twenty-five  pigs 
(pigs  being  the  recognised  currency),  and  it  is  the 
possession  of  pigs  that  fixes  a  man's  rank  in  the  aris- 
tocracy of  the  country.  To  become  noble  a  man  has 
only  one  thing  to  do — kill  pigs  and  give  feasts.  Eight 
or  ten  pigs  thus  sacrificed  will  give  him  the  lowest  rank; 
a  hundred  will  make  him  something  like  a  duke.  .  .  . 
Anything  equivalent  existing  among  the  heathens  of 
London,  or  possibly  the  wild  tribes  of  Sydney?  Of 
course  not.  .  .  .  These  tropical  climates  plant  strange 
fancies  in  the  brain. 

"This  system  of  coinage  creates  a  curious  difficulty, 
the  like  of  which  I  have  certainly  never  heard  in  any 
civilised  country — at  least,  I  think  not.  A  man  is 
generally  old  and  ugly  before  he  has  amassed  a  large 
number  of  pigs,  and  so  acquired  command  of  the  wife 
market.  He  picks  himself  out  the  youngest  and 
nicest-looking  wives,  consequently  the  most  expensive, 
and  buys  them.  That  is  all  right.  But  then  starts 
up  some  fine  young  fighting  man,  with  hardly  a  porker 
to  his  name,  and  the  expensive  twenty-pig  wife  takes 
a  fancy  to  him,  and  runs  away  to  the  bush  with  him, 
and  everybody  laughs  at  the  old  Croesus,  and  calls 
him  a  fool.  Truly,  an  extraordinary  state  of  affairs, 
causing  the  Christian  traveller  to  lift  up  pious  hands 
of  thanksgiving  for  the  benefits  enjoyed  by  his  own 
race,  among  whom  such  sinful  absurdities  are  unheard  of. 


i82  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

"The  New  Hebridean  wife  is  very  hard-worked, 
and  not  too  kindly  treated,  but  she  has  one  source 
of  satisfaction,  as  a  rule — the  price  that  was  paid 
for  her. 

"'  I  cost  twelve  pigs,'  Mrs.  Frizzyhead  No.  i  boasts 
to  Mrs.  Frizzyhead  No.  4,  who  is  a  new  acquisition, 
and  inclined  to  be  cheeky.  No.  4,  who  is  painting  her 
forehead  jet  black  with  burnt  cocoanut,  and  drawing  a 
line  of  red  ochre  down  her  nose,  pauses  in  her  toilet  to 
say  contemptuously,  '  I  cost  fifteen ! ' 

"Mrs.  Flatface,  the  sole  joy  of  old  Mr.  Flatface, 
from  the  bush,   here  chips   in: 

"  'I  cost  twenty,  and  two  of  them  were  big,  as  big 
as  a  whaleboat  from  the  steamer!' 

"The  Frizzyhead  ladies  subside,  and  wait  till  they 
can  catch  young  Mrs.  Blackleg  coming  up  from  the 
yam  plantations,  with  a  baby  in  her  arms  and  a  hundred- 
weight of  yams  on  her  back,  to  revenge  themselves 
by  telling  her  that  she  only  cost  ten  pigs,  and  is  a  low 
creature  anyhow. 

"We  pass  the  'hamal'  by-and-by — a  large,  ornate 
reed  house,  with  a  high  gable  roof,  an  extremely  small 
door,  and  no  windows — ^where  the  men  sleep  and  live 
by  themselves,  when  they  feel  so  inclined.  It  is  sur- 
rounded by  a  high  stone  wall,  and  is  strictly  'taboo* 
for  all  females.  It  seems  to  be  a  kind  of  dim  prototype 
of  the  civilised  club,  and  is  evidently  very  popular 
among  the  men,  for  when  they  are  at  home  there  are 
always  a  few  lounging  about  the  enclosure,  or  peering 
out  of  the  door. 

"  Did  I  get  over  the  wall,  and  stand  where  no  female 
foot  had  ever  stood  before?  No — although  I  was 
sorely  tempted  to  do  so — for  my  companions  were 
so  much  against  the  idea  that  I  had  to  wait  for  a  future 


MALEKULA— AN  UNCANNY  PLACE         183 

chance.  I  photographed  the  place  instead,  and  went 
on  to  the  Sing-Sing  ground. 

"This  was  the  strangest  and  most  uncanny  place 
ever  conceived  outside  of  a  nightmare — a  bare,  gloomy 
alley,  about  a  hundred  yards  in  length,  shadowed  by 
dark,  overhanging  trees,  and  faintly  lit  by  stray  gleams 
of  the  declining  sun.  Along  one  side  ran  a  perfect 
graveyard  of  small,  rough  tombstones,  or  what  looked 
like  them.  These  were  altars  for  sacrificing  pigs — and 
other  things.  It  is  not  very  often,  nowadays,  that  the 
other  things  are  available;  still,  the  resident  missionary 
found  it  necessary  to  interfere  only  the  other  day,  and 
use  all  the  influence  he  possessed  to  prevent  the  holding 
of  a  projected  cannibal  feast;  and  there  is  reason  to 
believe  that  not  a  few  natives  have  been  eaten  here  of 
late  years,  strictly  on  the  quiet. 

"Opposite  the  stone  altars,  looking  indescribably 
weird  and  evil  in  the  red  rays  of  the  declining  sun, 
stood  a  long  range  of  drum-idols,  carved  out  of  hollow 
tree-trunks.  They  were  of  all  heights,  from  two  or 
three  feet  up  to  thirty;  they  all  had  black,  skull-like, 
empty  eyes,  and  wicked  grins;  their  faces  were  carved 
into  ghastly  wrinkles,  and  many  of  them  had  long 
tongues  hanging  derisively  out  of  their  mouths.  The 
crowning  horror  was  the  strange  black  bird,  or  bat, 
placed  upon  the  head  of  nearly  every  one.  These  birds 
were  very  fairly  carved,  and  as  big  as  albatrosses; 
dead-black  in  colour,  with  a  few  narrow  white  lines 
on  the  wings.  Hovering  grimly  above  the  uncanny 
idol-faces,  their  beaks  bent  down,  their  gloomy  wings 
outspread,  they  seemed  the  very  spirit  of  Nightmare 
itself. 

"All  the  idols  were  hollow,  with  deep  clefts  in  their 
sides,  so  that  they  would  give  out  a  heavy,  booming 


i84  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

noise  when  beaten.  They  were  supposed  to  represent 
the  departed  ancestors  of  the  natives;  and  the  night- 
mare birds,  perched  high  up  on  the  idols'  heads,  figured, 
most  fittingly,  the  dark  spirits  of  those  who  were  thus 
commemorated . 

"In  the  vacant  space  before  the  idol-drums  the 
natives  hold  their  dances,  at  certain  times  of  the  year, 
and  also  their  feasts.  Almost  at  any  time  the  mocking 
faces  of  the  idols  may  laugh  cruel  scorn,  and  their  drum 
bodies  thunder  wild  rejoicing,  over  the  dying  agonies 
of  men  slaughtered  for  cannibal  feasts  on  the  rough 
stone  altars  that  border  the  Sing-Sing  ground.  All 
Malekula  is  determinedly  cannibal,  although  the 
influence  of  the  various  mission  stations  about  the  coasts 
has  caused  the  apparent  suppression  of  man-eating 
in  places  w^here  the  white  people  might  actually  see 
it.  All  the  bush  villages  are  known  to  indulge  in 
cannibal  feasting  every  now  and  then,  and — 'not 
once  or  twice,  in  this  rough  island  story' — a  white 
man  has  furnished  the  filling  for  the  cooking-pot. 

"What  goes  on  in  the  farther  interior  no  one  knows, 
for  no  white  man  has  ever  been  to  see;  but  from  the 
reports  of  the  natives  it  seems  evident  that  man-eating 
is  so  common  as  to  terrify  the  milder  cannibals  of  the 
coastal  districts  from  ever  venturing  across  the  wider 
parts  of  the  island. 

"There  was  yet  another  strange  thing  to  see  before 
we  left  Wala — the  collections  of  boars  tusks  belonging 
to  the  chiefs.  These  were  displayed  on  a  long  stand, 
that  exactly  resembled  eight  or  ten  bazaar  stalls  joined 
together.  There  were  some  hundreds  of  them,  placed 
in  long  rows — how  many  exactly  I  had  not  time  to 
count,  as  I  heard  that  the  canoes  were  just  coming 
home  from  the  mainland,  and  I  wanted  to  be  on  the 


MALEKULA— AN  UNCANNY  PLACE         185 

shore  to  meet  them.  Many  of  the  tusks  were  curved 
into  a  complete  double  circle.  These  are  greatly  prized, 
but  are  only  obtained  at  the  cost  of  much  suffering 
to  the  unlucky  pig  that  furnishes  them.  He  is  tied 
up  in  a  house,  and  never  allowed  to  wander  forth,  for 
fear  of  destroying  his  tusks.  From  each  side  of  the 
jaw  the  teeth  that  oppose  the  tusk  and  prevent  its 
going  too  far  are  removed,  so  that  in  time  it  grows 
right  round  through  the  unlucky  animal's  flesh,  and 
provides  a  splendid  double  armlet  for  the  native  who 
owns  the  pig. 

"There  were  also  several  large  bouquets  of  pigs' 
jaws,  neatly  tied  together,  hanging  up  on  the  stall. 
These  were  patents  of  nobility,  representing  so  many 
pigs  killed  and  feasts  given,  in  order  to  attain  chief  rank. 

"On  the  burning  white  shore,  as  I  came  out  of  the 
bush,  the  canoes  were  beginning  to  come  up  in  scores, 
returning  from  the  day's  work  on  Malekula  mainland. 
The  Wala  people  decorate  their  canoes  with  some  taste, 
a  good  deal  of  carving  being  seen.  They  are  also 
great  builders  of  war  canoes.  One  or  two  of  these 
lay  on  the  shore  as  I  came  down  on  my  way  to  the 
steamer.  They  seemed  large  enough  to  hold  fifty 
or  sixty  men,  and  were  partly  dug  out,  partly  built 
up,  the  upper  pieces  being  neatly  laced  and  tied  together. 
These  great  canoes,  however,  are  very  seldom  used." 

Sou'-West  Bay,  another  part  of  Malekula,  to  which 
I  was  now  bound,  is  a  place  of  an  evil  reputation. 
Murders  of  the  whites  have  always  been  frequent 
here,  and  the  last  was  not  many  months  old  when  I 
landed.  The  steamer  put  in  for  half  an  hour  to  take 
up  copra,  and  land  cargo.  She  seldom  stops  longer, 
and  her  calls  are  somewhat  irregular. 

The  place,  as  I  saw  it  first,  seemed  to  match  in  its 


i86  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

appearance  its  odd  seafaring  name  and  wicked  reputa- 
tion. A  wide  stretch  of  water,  with  little  shelter; 
ominous  overhanging  cliffs  and  rocks;  a  beach  of  black 
volcanic  sand,  torn  by  thunderous  rollers.  On  the 
shore,  assembled,  the  whole  white  population  of  the 
district — the  Presbyterian  missionary  and  his  wife,  one 
married  and  one  unmarried  trader,  and  a  French  mission- 
ary priest.     This  was  Sou'-West  Bay. 

A  few  natives  were  hovering  about  the  trees  near 
the  beach — creatures  of  appalling  ugliness  and  evil, 
carrying  a  loaded  gun  apiece,  and  absolutely  naked 
save  for  a  cartridge  belt.  There  was  nothing  to  be 
feared  from  them,  however.  Sinister  as  is  the  history 
of  Sou'-West  Bay,  I  understood  the  New  Hebridean 
well  enough  by  this  time  to  be  quite  certain  that  open 
daylight  attack,  with  a  steamer  in  the  offing,  was  the 
last  form  of  sport  likely  to  attract  him. 

I  had  trusted  to  the  hospitality  of  the  islands  in 
making  a  stop  here,  and  I  was  not  mistaken.  The 
Presbyterian  missionary  at  once  invited  me  to  stay  with 
himself  and  his  wife  as  long  as  I  liked,  and  I  and  my 
baggage  were  swept  off  to  the  neat  little  house  above 

the  beach  where  the  Rev.  Mr.  B has  his  home.     The 

steamer  was  away  again  almost  immediately,  and  only 
a  trail  of  black  smoke  on  the  far  horizon  marked  the 
disappearance  of  our  last  link  with  civilisation. 

Of  this,  one  of  the  most  interesting  spots  in  the 
whole  New  Hebridean  group,  the  travelling  world, 
so  far,  knows  nothing  at  all.  When  a  stray  wanderer 
does  by  any  chance  drift  up  in  the  Sydney  boat,  he 
has  neither  time  nor,  apparently,  desire  to  take  even 
a  walk  about  the  bay.  Perhaps  it  is  as  well,  however, 
that  the  time-tables  do  not  allow  of  any  exploration, 
for  the  Malekulans  of  this  part  are  not  company  for 


MALEKULA— AN  UNCANNY  PLACE         187 

everyone,  being  impulsive  by  nature,  and  apt  to  commit 
breaches  of  manners  which,  no  doubt,  they  are  the 
first  to  regret  in  cooler  moments — after  the  bones  are 
picked,  and  when  the  smoke  of  a  man-of-war  coming 
to  tea  and  talk  with  them  becomes  visible  over  the 
Cottonwood  tree-tops. 

Malekula,  or  Mallicollo,  as  it  is  commonly  called  in 
the  geographies,  is  the  unknown  country  of  the  New 
Hebrides.  Though  only  about  sixty  miles  by  thirty- 
five,  it  is  still  for  the  most  part  unexplored,  and  the 
white  settlers  and  missionaries,  of  whom  there  are 
only  a  few,  all  have  their  dwellings  round  the  coast- 
line, or  on  the  outlying  islets — as  at  Wala.  For  a 
very  few  miles  inland,  something  of  the  country  is 
known,  and  the  island  has  twice  been  crossed  at  the 
narrower  ends.  But  the  great  tract  lying  in  the  interior 
is  still  untouched.  What  may  be  there,  nobody  knows, 
although  half  a  century  has  passed  since  the  first  settle- 
ments of  missionaries  and  traders  on  the  shores.  There 
are  all  kinds  of  wild  traditions  current,  as  is  generally 
the  case  where  unknown  lands  are  in  question.  It 
is  said  by  the  natives  of  the  beach  districts  that  a 
tribe  of  pigmies  inhabits  the  interior;  and  this  has 
apparently  some  evidence  to  support  it,  since  one  of  the 
medical  missionaries  assured  me  that  he  had  himself 
seen  a  man  from  the  interior  who  was  only  four  feet 
six.  It  sounds  like  further  proof,  when  one  is  told 
that  the  coast  tribes  declare  these  pigmies  are  extremely 
vicious  and  hostile,  and  that  they  are  expert  in  the 
use  of  poisoned  arrows — these  being  well-known  charac- 
teristics of  dwarf  races,  as  observed  in  other  lands. 

There  is  at  all  events  no  doubt  as  to  the  character 
of  the  forest  tribes  as  a  whole,  since  they  furnish  quite 
sufficient  proof  of  it  from  time  to  time,  in  their  sudden 


i88  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

descents  to  the  coast,  where  they  burn,  slay,  and  destroy 
wholesale,  retreating  again  to  their  mountain  strong- 
holds unpursued  and  unpunished,  for  the  most  part. 
They  hold  the  tribes  of  the  coast  in  constant  terror, 
and  no  money  would  procure  a  guide  into  the  interior, 
even  with  an  armed  force  to  guard  him. 

This  is  one  of  the  reasons  why  the  island  is  still 
virgin  ground  to  the  explorer.  But  there  are  others. 
It  seems  at  first  sight  that  an  island  which  looks  on 
the  map  as  if  it  could  be  crossed  in  two  days'  march 
should  not  remain  long  unknown.  One  very  good 
reason,  however,  lies  in  the  fact  that,  commercially, 
it  would  pay  nobody  to  go.  There  is  practically  no 
land  in  Malekula  worth  having.  The  country  is  known 
to  be  hilly,  broken,  and  irregular  in  the  highest  degree, 
cut  up  by  mountain  ranges  rising  to  four  or  five  thousand 
feet,  and  covered  with  the  densest  forest.  No  one 
wants  the  interior.     That  is  a  second  reason. 

Another  lies  in  the  fact  that  the  scientific  explorer 
is  barred  off  by  the  question  of  expense.  An  armed 
force  would  be  a  necessity  to  any  expedition,  and  it 
would  richly  earn  its  pay.  Some  losses  would  be  cer- 
tain. Fever  could  not  be  escaped;  the  hostile 
tribes  would  fight  hard,  and  poisoned  arrows  silently 
sent  out  from  the  bush,  or  poisoned  spearheads  cunningly 
concealed  in  the  pathway,  just  where  they  would  be 
most  likely  to  pierce  an  intruding  foot,  would  certainly 
account  for  not  a  few  of  the  travellers.  For  this  reason, 
a  force  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  apparent  need  of  such 
an  expedition  would  have  to  be  taken,  fed,  and  paid. 
Progress,  also,  would  be  extremely  slow,  and  here  expense 
comes  in  again.  So  far  as  anyone  has  penetrated,  the 
country  is  so  exceedingly  irregular,  precipitous,  and 
densely  wooded,  that  only  a  few  miles  a  day  would  be 


MALEKULA— AN  UNCANNY  PLACE         189 

covered  at  best.  When  the  crews  of  the  French  and 
English  warships,  Pegasus  and  Mcurthe,  marched  eleven 
miles  inland,  and  back  again,  in  a  day  and  a  night  of 
October,  1905  (much  the  most  important  journey  into 
the  interior  that  has  yet  been  made) ,  the  exertion  was  so 
great  that  several  of  the  men  fell  out  from  sheer  exhaus- 
tion, before  the  first  half  was  done.  It  may  be  judged 
how  much  ground  an  ordinary  expedition  would  be  likely 
to  cover  in  a  day,  since  this  is  the  very  best  that  a 
body  of  trained,  picked,  and  powerful  man-of-war's 
men  could  do,  carrying  only  bare  necessaries  for  the 
march. 

The  tribes  of  the  interior  have,  in  many  cases,  never 
been  down  to  the  coast,  or  seen  a  white  man's  face, 
but  they  have  nearly  all  managed  to  obtain  rifles,  and 
v/here  these  are  missing,  poisoned  arrows  supply  their 
place.  They  are  quite  determined  to  allow  no  invasion 
of  their  country,  either  by  white  people  or  natives 
from  the  shore.  The  attitude  which  they  main- 
tain has  a  decided  influence  over  the  natives  of 
the  other  islands,  and  the  murders  and  massacres 
of  white  people  which  the  Malekulans  have  successfully 
carried  out  from  time  to  time,  have  had  a  bad  effect 
over  the  whole  group.  For  this  reason,  Malekula  is 
one  of  the  first  places  to  which  any  established  govern- 
ment w^ould  turn  its  attention,  if  the  islands  were 
annexed.  Something  has  already  been  done  by  the 
French  and  English  warships,  acting  together;  but 
the  place  cannot  be  thoroughly  taken  in  hand,  under 
existing  circumstances,  and  in  consequence  remains 
exactly  what  it  was  in  the  days  of  De  Bougainville 
and  Cook — a  hell  upon  earth  of  cannibalism,  murder, 
and  infamy  unspeakable.  For  be  it  known  that  the 
truth,  or  half  the  truth,  about  the  lives  of  these  savages 


190  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

can  never  be  told.  Any  book  which  depicted  them  all 
in  all  as  they  are  would  be  fit  for  nothing  but  to  be 
burned  at  the  hands  of  the  common  hangman.  Darker 
spots  upon  the  surface  of  the  earth  than  Malekula 
there  cannot  be;  worse  fiends  in  hell  or  out  of  it  than 
most  of  the  natives  not  the  wildest  imaginations  of 
madhouses  could  picture.  And  there  description  must 
cease. 

About  the  little  mission-house  in  Sou'-West  Bay, 
heathenism  and  cannibalism  surge  like  tides  of  a  stormy 
sea  breaking  upon  a  solitary  islet.  It  is  small  wonder 
that  the  Presbyterian  mission  and  the  Catholic  alike, 
one  many  years  old,  the  other  comparatively  new, 
have  been  able  to  do  very  little.  The  representatives 
of  both  churches  have  had  the  narrowest  possible  escapes 
for  their  lives  from  time  to  time;  and  things  have  been 
so  bad  for  the  traders  that  a  man-of-war  called  in  1904 
with  the  object  of  taking  them  safely  away,  should 
they  so  wish.  One  accepted  the  offer,  the  others  remained 
where  they  were,  and  simply  "chanced"  it  until  things 
quieted  down. 

In  Sou'-West  Bay,  close  to  the  entrance,  lies  the  only 
piece  of  land  in  the  group  that  belongs  to  Great  Britain — 
a  small  wooded  islet  of  considerable  height,  only  a  few 
hundred  yards  in  circumference.  The  story  of  its 
acquisition  is  an  amusing  one.  Sou'-West  Bay  has 
always  been  considered  the  best  place  in  the  islands 
for  target  practice,  by  the  man-of-war  patrolling  the 
group,  and  this  small  islet  was  used  as  a  target  so  fre- 
quently that  it  seemed  in  danger  of  being  gradually- 
shot  away. 

The  chief  who  owned  it  protested,  and  wanted 
compensation.  The  captain  of  the  man-of-war,  who 
understood    New    Hebridean   nature,    knew   that   these 


MALEKULA— AN  UNCANNY  PLACE         191 

claims  would  be  a  ceaseless  source  of  blackmail  unless 
they  were  settled  once  for  all;  so  he  bought  the  island 
outright  for  the  British  Crown,  paying  ten  sticks  of 
tobacco  for  it,  and  everyone  was  satisfied.  The  place, 
since  then,  has  always  been  known  as  "Ten  Stick  Island." 


CHAPTER  XI 

MALEKULA— THE  OUTER  MAN 

How  Bilyas  made  itself  Strong — The  Slaughtered  Traders — 
Into  the  Unknown  Country — The  Cannibal  Toilet — 
New  Fashions  in  Murder — The  Ignorant  White 
Woman 

THE  mission-house  stands  in  the  middle  of  a  clearing; 
behind  it,  wave  after  wave,  rise  the  unconquered 
heights  of  the  mysterious  forest  land,  clothed  in  densest 
green.  One  burnt  and  barren  spot,  some  two  miles 
above  the  settlement,  marks  the  former  site  of  Bilyas, 
one  of  the  very  worst  of  the  villages  near  the  coast, 
which  had  been  destroyed  by  the  British  and  French 
warships,  Pegasus  and  Meurthe,  three  months  before 
my  visit.  The  story — one  of  a  good  many  similar 
tales  relating  to  Sou'-West  Bay — ^may  be  given  as  an 
example  of  the  rest. 

About  August  1904,  the  men  of  Bilyas,  a  hill  fortress 
notorious  for  giving  trouble,  declared  their  intention 
of  "making  themselves  strong."  This  expression,  in 
the  mouth  of  a  Malekulan  native  or  tribe,  is  best  trans- 
lated as  a  wish  for  self-advertisement — a  desire  to 
be  widely  talked  of.  It  is  on  such  occasions  as  this 
that  the  white  people  are  really  in  danger,  for  the  mur- 
der of  a  white  man  or  woman  is  considered  a  plucky 
and  creditable  performance  among  the  tribes,  and  is 
likely,  on  that  account,  to  be  selected  as  a  means  of 
securing  the  desired  advertisement. 

193 


194  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

In  this  case,  the  Bilyas  men,  who  apparently  wanted 
to  do  the  thing  thoroughly  when  they  began,  openly 
declared  their  intention  of  killing  the  crew  of  the 
first  recruiting  schooner  that  should  come  into  the  bay. 
Very  shortly  afterward,  a  French  vessel  appeared, 
and  sent  out  her  boats.  The  Bilyas  men  were  rather 
disappointed  to  find  that  the  Frenchmen — thinking 
it  was  "better  to  be  a  coward  for  half  an  hour,  than 
a  corpse  for  all  your  life" — ^had  stayed  on  board  the 
ship  themselves,  and  sent  out  the  boats  manned  only 
by  natives  from  another  island.  However,  they  re- 
solved, at  least,  to  make  a  "bag"  of  the  latter.  Now, 
it  is  not  so  easy  as  it  might  seem  to  entrap  and  murder 
the  crew  of  a  recruiting  boat,  for  they  always  work 
in  pairs,  one  carrying  out  the  negotiations  on  the  beach, 
the  other  remaining  some  distance  off,  and  keeping 
the  natives  on  the  shore  covered  with  their  rifles,  for 
fear  of  treachery.  The  recruiting  boat  itself  is  usually, 
though  not  always,  armed  as  well.  The  Bilyas  men, 
however,  were  famed  even  among  the  Malekulans  for 
their  high  degree  of  accomplishment  in  the  fine  art  of 
treacherous  murder,  and  they  proved  themselves  equal 
to  the  occasion.  They  greeted  the  recruiters  most  civilly, 
and  told  them  there  were  several  men  who  were  willing 
to  engage.  There  was  a  little  polite  conversation,  and 
then  the  men  of  Bilyas  began  discussing  the  bonuses 
that  were  to  be  given  to  the  relatives  of  the  enlisters, 
according  to  custom.  They  asked  for  guns,  and 
demanded  to  see  all  the  rifles  that  were  in  the  boat, 
throwing  open  the  breech  of  each  one,  apparently  to 
examine  it,  but  really  to  see  if  it  was  loaded.  Now  the 
native  crew  had  very  foolishly  trusted  to  the  covering 
boat,  and  brought  no  loaded  firearms  themselves,  so 
all  the  rifles  were  empty.     This  was  good,  so  far. 


MALEKULA— THE  OUTER  MAN     195 

"Send  away  that  other  boat  of  yours;  we  are 
afraid  while  they  cover  us  with  their  guns,"  said  the 
plotters,  acting  under  the  orders  of  a  cunning  old  chief 
who  was  leading  the  party.  The  boatmen,  misled  by 
the  friendly  tone,  signalled  to  the  boat  to  draw  away. 

It  seems  that  after  this,  their  hearts  began  suddenly 
to  fail  them,  for  though  they  spoke  no  word,  the  old 
chief  read  their  faces,  and  said  in  the  Bilyas  dialect 
to  his  followers:  "Be  quick,  for  these  men  are  beginning 
to  fear  us."  He  spoke  with  a  smiling  face,  and  held 
the  boatmen  in  conversation,  using  their  own  tongue, 
while  the  Bilyas  men  closed  in. 

"They  are  thinking  of  going,"  warned  the  old  chief, 
still  smiling,  as  he  watched  the  faces  in  the  boat — 
faces  now  paling  fast  under  the  shadow  of  a  fear  that 
was  clutching  at  every  heart.  .  .  .  "Now!"  he  cried, 
dropping  all  disguise — and  the  men  of  Bilyas  fired. 
Three  of  the  wretched  victims  dropped  dead;  one 
fell  dying;  the  rest  escaped  out  to  sea.  .  .  .  So  Bilyas 
"made  itself  strong." 

A  week  or  two  later  the  Meurthe  came  in,  burned 
a  couple  of  villages  (the  inhabitants  having  fled  into 
the  bush),  and  steamed  away  again.  In  July  of  the 
next  year — 1905 — she  returned,  sent  an  armed  expedi- 
tion up  into  Bilyas  itself,  and  killed  four  natives.  A 
French  sailor,  however,  was  killed  also,  and,  owing 
to  some  confusion  about  prisoners,  the  force  retreated 
in  some  disorder,  leaving  things  on  the  whole  much 
worse  than  they  were  before. 

As  there  were  two  or  three  outstanding  murders  of 
white  traders  to  avenge  (the  cases  of  Sarguey,  Gardemer, 
and  others),  the  British  and  French  now  took  the 
matter  up  together,  and  on  September  3rd,  about 
three    weeks    before    my    visit,    the    Pegasus   and    the 


196  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

Meurthe  sent  a  combined  expedition  inland,  under  the 
leadership  of  Commander  H.  D'Oyly,  of  the  Pegasus. 
This  force  was  not  intended  to  take  life,  unless  in  self- 
defence,  but  merely  to  warn  the  natives,  and  clear 
out  a  hornet's  nest  that  had  long  given  trouble  to  the 
whole  bay.  The  work  was  done  very  thoroughly, 
the  town  and  all  its  contents  burned,  and  the  power 
of  Bilyas  thoroughly  broken.  None  of  the  actual 
murderers  were  captured,  either  then  or  at  any  other 
time.  The  real  offender  never  is  captured  in  such 
cases,  but  the  common  (and  very  effective)  course 
of  justice  followed  by  British  warships  is  to  make 
things  so  hot  in  general  for  the  criminal's  tribe,  that 
it  is  discouraged  from  any  other  attempts  at  cheap 
advertisement  for  some  time  to  come. 

The  murder  of  the  Frenchman  Sarguey  took  place 
in  April  1904,  and  was  not  unlike  the  other.  In  this 
case,  there  was  no  one  who  wanted  to  "make  himself 
strong" — only  a  desire  to  seciire  goods  without  paying 
for  them.  Sarguey  had  gone  up  in  his  cutter  a  little 
beyond  the  bay  to  a  spot  called  Lumbumbu,  to  buy 
yams  and  pigs  from  the  natives,  who  happened  to  have 
a  superfluity  of  both,  and  were  willing  to  trade.  They 
were  quite  friendly  to  him,  and  when  he  took  his  pretty 
white-sailed  cutter  up  into  the  bay  below  the  village, 
and  ran  his  dingy  ashore  into  the  midst  of  the  crowd 
collected  to  see  him  land,  everything  seemed  as  fair 
and  promising  as  the  brilliant  day  and  the  lovely  island 
itself.  But  when  the  men  of  Lumbumbu  saw  the  boat 
all  full  of  trade  goods,  they  grew  very  covetous,  and 
began  planning  among  themselves  how  to  secure  all 
these  riches  without  parting  with  their  own  goods. 
Sarguey  had  two  loaded  rifles  in  the  boat,  carried  as 
men    carry   firearms   all   over   the   New   Hebrides — "in 


MALEKULA— THE  OUTER  MAN     197 

case" — and  the  men  saw  that  these  must  be  got  out 
of  the  way.  So  they  told  the  Frenchman  that  one 
of  them  would  go  away  with  him  in  his  cutter,  as  he 
had  got  into  trouble,  and  wanted  to  recruit  for  the 
plantations ;  and  the  Frenchman  could  take  him  anywhere 
he  liked.  This  meant  a  profit  of  several  pounds,  so: 
"All  right,"  said  the  trader  cheerfully,  "I'll  take  you, 
my  man;    jump  in." 

"But  my  family — you  know  I  must  have  a  rifle  for 
my  family,  or  thev  won't  let  me  go,"  objected  the  recruit 
anxiously. 

"Well,  I'm  not  out  recruiting,  you  see,  and  I  haven't 
got  any  trade  rifles  with  me,"  said  Sarguey.  "I'll 
send  them  one  later." 

"That  would  never  do;  I'll  have  one  now,  or  I  won't 
go,"  declared  the  man  sulkily.  "Give  me  those  you 
have  in  the  boat,  to  look  at;  perhaps  they're  good 
enough.     But  I  won't  go  if  they  are  not." 

Now  a  recruiter  can  get  ten  pounds  for  a  good  man 
down  at  the  plantations,  if  hands  are  scarce,  and  the 
rifles  were  not  worth  two  pounds  apiece.  Sarguey 
turned  to  hand  them  over  for  examination.     .     .     . 

".  .  .  Master,  take  care!"  warned  one  of  his  own 
boatmen;  "I  think  they  mean  treachery!" 

It  was  too  late.  The  rifles  were  scarcely  out  of  the 
boat  before  the  whole  pack  fell  upon  the  Frenchman 
like  wolves.  One  shot  him  in  the  back,  another  clubbed 
him  on  the  head,  and  the  rest  began  to  loot  the  boat, 
with  horrid  yells  of  joy.  The  native  boatmen,  terrified 
out  of  their  lives,  swam  off  to  the  cutter,  and  took 
refuge  there.  They  were  not  followed;  so,  after  the 
murderers  had  gone  their  way,  and  left  the  blood- 
bespattered  body  of  Sarguey  on  the  shore,  the  frightened 
crew  ventured  back  to  the  lonely  beach,  and  brought 


igS  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

their  master  out  to  his  ship.  He  was  still  breathing 
when  they  found  him.  The  rest  of  the  story  was  told 
as  follows  to  the  mission  folk,  in  the  pigeon  English 
that  serves  as  a  connecting-link  among  the  Babel  dialects 
of  Malekula: 

"Head  belong  him,  he  break  plenty.  He  tell  me 
takeum  cutter  big-fellow  hospital,  Ambrym.  We 
tell:  'What  name  (why?)  we  go  Ambrym,  you  no  good, 
you  dead.'  He  tell:  'No,  all  right.'  By-n'-by  he  speak 
wantum  one-fellow  water,  two-fellow  water;  we  give. 
No  wantum  more.     By-n'-by  he  go  finish  (died)." 

However,  the  Sou'-West  Bay  people,  though  treach- 
erous and  cannibal,  are  not  in  the  habit  of  killing  white 
people  "on  sight."  They  may  kill  you,  as  they  killed 
Sarguey  and  others,  if  they  see  their  way  to  a  clear 
profit  by  your  death,  or  they  may  use  you  as  a  means 
of  advertisement  as  explained  above — or  they  may 
put  an  end  to  you  by  a  sly  bullet  from  the  bush,  if  they 
have  taken  a  dislike  to  you,  and  think  that  your  presence 
is  bringing  down  bad  luck  on  the  crops.  But,  if  they 
have  no  personal  objection  to  you  on  the  whole,  and 
they  do  not  suppose  you  have  been  using  spells  to  call 
down  a  curse  on  the  country,  and  no  native  has  happened 
to  die  a  few  weeks  after  you  misguidedly  gave  him 
five  grains  of  quinine  for  fever — why,  then,  being  suitably 
introduced,  you  can  beard  the  Malekulan  in  his  mountain 
den,  if  you  feel  inclined,  and  come  off  none  the  worse. 

This  was,  at  all  events,  the  opinion  of  my  kind  host 
of  Sou'-West  Bay,  who,  hearing  that  I  was  anxious 
to  get  a  peep,  if  possible,  at  some  of  the  mysterious 
bush  towns,  offered  to  escort  me  up  to  one  that  he 
had  never  visited  himself,  and  that  was  entirely 
imknown  to  any  white  person.     It  was  about  six  miles 


AFRAID  T(i  LAXD-SOUMVEST  BAY 


CONSCIENCE-STRICKEN 


MALEKULA— THE  OUTER  MAN     199 

inland,  in  the  real  fighting  country,  and  it  certainly 
could  not  have  been  reached  by  the  man-of-war's  people, 
had  they  been  there,  otherwise  than  with  a  strong 
force  and  a  couple  of  Maxim  guns.  Mr.  B ,  how- 
ever, thought  that  if  he  and  I  were  to  go  up  quite 
unarmed,  and  only  accompanied  by  a  couple  of  boys 
to  find  the  way,  and  if  we  did  nothing  that  might  be 
likely  to  annoy  the  natives,  there  was  every  probability 
that  our  insignificance  would  protect  us,  so  that  we 
should  not  be  molested  in  any  way.  An  idol  dance 
was  to  take  place  in  this  forest  stronghold  in  a  day 
or   two,    according   to   the   rumours   current   about   the 

beach,  and  Mr.  B was  sure  that  it  would  be  very 

well  worth  seeing. 

I  was  quite  sure  that  it  would,  also,  and  besides, 
who  would  not  have  jumped  at  the  chance  of  such 
an  exciting  adventure?  So  we  started  off  very  merrily 
in  the  early  morning,  taking  a  couple  of  mission  natives 
to  find  the  track  for  us,  and  carry  our  food,  and  wearing 
the  lightest  of  cotton  clothing,  and  the  shadiest  of 
hats,  to  protect  us  from  the  raging  sun. 

We  had  some  boating  first,  up  a  narrow  winding  arm 
of  the  sea,  dotted  with  exquisite  green  islands — a  very 
home  of  the  fairies,  lovely  and  silent  enough  to  let  one 
forget  that  its  actual  frequenters  were  hideously  painted 
naked  savages.  Who  was  the  first  teller  of  "travellers' 
tales"  to  vilify  the  beautiful  mangrove?  Why  does 
every  wanderer  slavishly  repeat  the  old  fables  about 
its  ugliness  and  gloom?  Spreading  a  close  rampart 
of  glossy  pale-green  leafage,  starred  with  small  white 
flowers,  above  the  china-blue  water  of  the  lagoon — 
weaving  quaint  reed-work  of  interlaced  black  stems 
and  roots,  underneath  the  brave  show  of  gloss  and 
colour — shooting  up  here  a  single  spire  of  leaf  through 


200  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

the  empty  water,  there  a  far-out  Httle  islet  like  a  black 
basket  full  of  bright  leaves — the  "horrible"  mangrove 
and  its  "ghastly"  foliage  provided  half  the  beauty 
of  the  lagoon.  It  is  not  a  wholesome  or  a  healthy 
thing  to  have  about;  but  if  one  is  to  deny  the  beauty 
of  anything  that  is  dangerous  or  evil,  one  must  rule 
out  a  large  proportion  of  the  loveliness  of  this  perverse 
yet  pleasant  world. 

By-and-by  we  landed,  and  then,  leaving  the  fiord 
behind,  we  walked  four  miles  farther  inland,  up  toward 
the  mountain  town.  Four  miles!  what  is  that  to  any 
healthy  Briton?  A  mere  stroll;  a  saunter  scarcely 
deserving  the  name  of  a  walk  at  all.  Four  miles  of 
hard  white  English  road,  of  bracing  breezes.  .  .  . 
just  an  appetiser  for  dinner,  no  more. 

But  four  miles  in  the  New  Hebrides  is  something  else. 

To  begin  with,  there  are  no  roads.  There  is  usually 
a  track,  some  few  inches  wide,  but  one  cannot  even 
keep  it  without  a  guide,  and  it  is  generally  slippery 
and  boggy,  for  the  annual  rainfall,  in  these  islands  of 
the  blest,  is  reckoned  by  yards  instead  of  inches. 
Then  there  is  no  level  ground.  Either  you  are  struggling 
up  the  side  of  a  slope  so  steep  that  you  have  to  use 
your  hands,  or  you  are  sliding  with  clenched  feet  and 
fingers  down  into  a  pit  of  destruction.  The  land 
seems  to  be  composed  entirely  of  gorge  and  gullies, 
and  the  track  never  appears  to  lead  along  them,  always 
across.  Also,  there  is  little  air,  and  not  much  light 
to  speak  of,  because  the  overhanging  canopy  of  densely 
knitted  leaf  and  liana  shuts  off  both.  Then  it  is  hot — 
a  good  deal  hotter  than  the  orchid-house  at  Kew,  and 
a  good  deal  moister,  and  before  you  have  gone  a  mile, 
you  are  as  wet  with  mere  heat  as  if  you  had  been  dropped 
bodily   into   the   sea.     It   is  long  odds,   too,    that   you 


MALEKULA— THE  OUTER  MAN     201 

have  a  touch  of  fever  hanging  about  you,  and  island 
fever  takes  all  the  stiffening  out  of  your  bones,  and 
weights  your  brain  with  lead.  .  .  .  Four  miles  is  four 
miles,  to  an  unseasoned  visitor,  in  the  hot  season;  still 
more  is  eight  miles  eight.  Some  weeks  later,  I  walked 
thirteen  miles,  over  very  bad  country,  and  survived  the 
feat;  but  more  than  that  I  never  attempted  while 
in  the  New  Hebrides.  It  is  only  about  some  part  of 
Efate,  and  in  the  interior  of  Tanna,  that  riding  is  pos- 
sible. Elsewhere,  almost  all  the  travelling  is  done 
by  boat,  so  as  to  reduce  the  inland  scrambling  to  a 
minimum. 

The  scenery — it  is  an  unpoetical  comparison,  but 
really  I  cannot  help  it — ^was  almost  exactly  like  a  trans- 
formation piece  in  a  pantomime.  The  enormous  wild 
taro  leaves,  great  green  parasols  with  the  rare  sun- 
light dripping  through,  standing  up  on  tall  thick  stalks 
higher  than  a  man — the  scaled  and  diamonded  palm- 
trunks,  the  close-set  banyan  columns,  garlanded  with 
long  drooping  fringes  of  delicate  creeper;  the  immense 
nameless  roots  and  buttresses  of  giant  trees,  projecting 
themselves  like  the  edges  of  "flats"  upon  the  winding 
pathway — the  bird's-nest  ferns,  pale  orchids,  and  knotted 
lianas,  perched  aloft  in  the  "flies" — all  these  needed 
only  the  usual  troop  of  posturing  nymphs  to  bring  the 
very  sound  of  the  orchestra,  and  smell  of  gas  and  velvet 
and  orange-peel  up  before  one's  senses. 

Instead,  just  as  the  pathway  opened  out  upon  the 
most  theatrical  of  "glades,"  we  came  upon  a  score 
or  two  of  young  Malekulans  clothed,  as  usual,  in  their 
native  impudence  and  a  cartridge  belt,  and  very  busy 
indeed  making  up  themselves  and  each  other  for  the 
dance.  One  had  just  completed  his  head — a  very  neat 
arrangement  in  powdered  white  wood-ash,  giving  him 


202  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

an  extraordinary  resemblance  to  a  negro  barrister 
who  had  somehow  omitted  to  put  on  his  clothes.  A 
rival  had  contrived  to  leave  alternate  stripes  of  his 
own  black  wool,  and  to  fix  on  a  large  black  rosette  of 
close-felted  vegetable  fibre  above  the  centre  of  his 
forehead.  The  forehead  itself  was  painted  shiny  black 
with  burned  cocoanut.  Another  had  used  the  same 
invaluable  pigment  to  darken  his  eyebrows,  and  circle 
round  his  eyes,  so  that  he  presented  a  curiously  theatrical 
appearance,  only  a  little  marred  by  the  broad  red  stripe 
down  his  nose.  Some  had  fastened  plumes  of  cock's 
or  parrot's  feathers,  glossy  black  or  vivid  green,  into 
their  woolly  hair;  others  arranged  scarlet  flowers  in 
it  with  some  taste,  and  all  were  striped  about  the  face 
with  warlike  vermilion  paint  in  different  patterns. 
A  pig's  tail  in  each  ear  was  evidently  the  crowning 
touch  of  elegance,  and  boar's  tusks,  worn  locket-wise 
upon  the  chest,  seemed  the  height  of  the  mode.  Most 
of  the  men  had  charms  done  up  in  greasy  little  packets, 
hanging  on  a  very  dirty  sinnet  string  round  the  neck, 
as  a  protection  against  murder.  These,  it  may  be 
noted,  were  carefully  adjusted  on  the  back,  not  on 
the  breast,  for  a  Malekulan  always  attacks  in  the  rear. 
Small  water- worn  stones  are  the  charms  most  commonly 
used. 

All  were  armed  with  rifles,  and  if  the  ammunition 
of  the  rest  was  to  be  judged  by  some  specimens  I  saw, 
every  one  was  loaded  for  elephant  at  the  least.  As  the 
largest  indigenous  animal  in  the  islands  is  the  fruit 
bat  (excepting  the  wild  boar,  which  is  probably  an 
introduction,  and  is  not  at  all  dangerous),  it  seems 
fairly  obvious  that  the  noblest  of  all  animals  was  the 
game  for  which  my  friends  were  prepared. 

There  was  nothing  noble  about  themselves,  however, 


w 


MALEKULA  WARRIOR 


MALEKULA— THE  OUTER  MAN     203 

for  a  more  ill-looking  crew  I  had  never  seen.  Nor 
does  the  Malekulan's  expression  belie  his  nature.  As 
already  suggested,  he  considers  murder  a  fine  art,  and 
treachery  the  highest  of  accomplishments.  Cannibalism 
he  thinks  a  proof  of  a  fine  manly  character,  infanticide — 
usually  compassed  by  the  simple  method  of  throwing 
unwanted  children  into  the  forest  to  die,  or  burying 
them  alive — is  a  recognised  social  custom.  He  trusts, 
and  is  trusted  by,  no  one,  for  he  walks  in  the  continual 
fear  of  death,  and  with  murder  always  lurking  in  his 
own  heart.  In  truth,  the  "Shadow  cloaked  from  head 
to  feet"  spreads,  night  and  day,  its  gloomy  wings  over 
evil,    beautiful,    mysterious    Malekula. 

A  new  fashion  in  murder,  by  the  way,  had  come 
in  some  time  before  my  visit  to  Sou '-West  Bay,  and  this 
was  the  manner  of  it.  You  contrived  to  get  on  friendly 
terms  with  your  enemy,  and  began  to  talk  to  him. 
Your  gun,  of  course,  was  held  under  your  armpit  as 
you  talked,  cocked  and  loaded  as  usual,  because  that 
is  a  thing  that  no  gentleman  would  think  of  objecting 
to,  when  your  arms  were  held  harmlessly  down  by 
your  sides.  And  while  you  talked,  discussing  the  last 
pig-killing,  and  the  yam  crop,  and  the  likelihood  of  a 
hurricane,  you  kept  carelessly  shifting  the  gun  about 
under  your  armpit,  till  it  was  at  the  proper  angle  to 
cover  your  enemy's  heart.  So,  while  you  still  talked 
pleasantly,  and  still  kept  your  innocent  hands  well 
in  view,  another  native  diplomat,  acting  as  your  con- 
federate, slipped  up  behind  you  and  pulled  the  trigger. 
.  Very  neat — and  very  Malekulan. 
These  warriors  interested  me  greatly,  by  reason  of 
their  demeanour,  which  presented  quite  a  novelty  in 
my  experiences  of  island  travel.  Some  of  them  had 
probably  been  "recruited"  for  labour  in  other  parts  of 


204  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

the  group,  and  must  have  seen  white  women;  but  many 
certainly  had  not.  Now,  about  out-of-the-way  places 
in  the  Eastern  and  Southern  Pacific,  the  sight  of  a 
stranger,  especially  a  woman,  creates  almost  as  much 
excitement  as  a  flying-machine  would  do.  Crowds 
follow  the  visitor,  and  the  liveliest  and  minutest  curiosity 
is  expressed  about  all  his  or  her  belongings,  peculiarities, 
and  manners.  Life,  indeed,  for  the  time  being,  is  lived 
under  a  social  microscope,  and  every  word  or  action  is 
noted  with  the  deepest  interest. 

Not  so  with  my  friends  the  Malekulan  fighting  men, 
in  the  gloom  of  the  dark-green  forest.  From  a  safe 
distance,  they  regarded  us  with  a  sort  of  sullen  curiosity, 
not  unmingled  with  fear.  They  did  not  smile;  they  did 
not  approach  to  question  our  native  boys.  They  stood 
or  squatted  in  groups,  leaning  on  their  guns,  and  watch- 
ing us  uneasily  under  their  lowering  brows. 

The  missionary  and  I  were  hungry  now,  and  we  sat 
down  and  ate,  while  the  Malekulans,  waiting  for  other 
parties  to  join  them,  stood  in  the  shade  of  the  darkest 
trees,  and  touched  up  each  other's  faces — always  keep- 
ing an  eye  upon  us.  We  could  not  offer  them  any  of 
our  sandwiches  and  cake  (as  etiquette  would  have  obliged 
us  to  do  in  other  island  groups),  for  Malekula  is  honey- 
combed with  caste  superstitions,  and  no  man  will  touch 
food  prepared  at  a  fire  used  for  cooking  that  of  any  other 
caste.  Labourers  on  a  plantation,  preparing  their  evening 
meal,  may  be  seen  lighting  almost  as  many  fires  as  there 
are  men,  sometimes,  before  they  will  cook  their 
food.  .  .  .  Another  of  Malekula's  many  mysteries. 
Whence  comes  the  caste  idea,  among  such  a  degraded 
race?  Whence,  again,  certain  Jewish  ceremonies,  which 
are  almost  universal?  Whence  the  four  or  five  distinct 
racial   types,    and    the   six   or    seven  entirely   different 


MALEKULA— THE  OUTER  MAN     205 

languages,  in  this  one  island?  Whence,  above  all,  the 
purely  Caucasian  face  that  appears  in  certain  of  their  oldest 
images?  Why  do  the  "hamals"  or  sacred  houses,  show 
an  architectural  skill  never  displayed  in  the  miserable 
huts  of  the  coast — though  rumour  says  the  towns  of  the 
interior  are  well  and  handsomely  built?  What  is  the 
truth  about  the  pigmy  men  ?  What  is  the  real  significance 
of  the  figures  of  the  "frigate"  bird,  that  seem  so  closely 
interwoven  with  all  their  religious  ideas  ?  .  .  .  Nobody 
knows;  and,  so  far  as  I  was  able  to  ascertain,  nobody 
cares  very  much  either. 

I  went  over  to  the  group  of  fighting  men  by-and-by, 
to  examine  their  decorations,  and,  if  possible,  converse 
with  them  a  little  through  the  medium  of  our  boys. 
They  seemed  sullen  and  fearful,  however,  and  disinclined 
to  speak.  A  few  women  soon  after  appeared  with  loads 
of  yams,  and  stopped  to  rest.  They  were  evidently 
terrified  at  the  sight  of  me,  and  most  of  them  would  not 
come  near  me.  Those  who  did  come  regarded  me  with 
a  scowling  suspiciousness  which  I  was  far  from  returning, 
as  I  knew  their  presence  meant  that  everything  was  right. 
More  than  once  in  just  such  mountain  fastnesses  as  these 
has  a  too- venturous  trader  or  recruiter,  who  had  come  up 
with  an  armed  guard  of  his  ow^n,  received  warning  that 
mischief  was  at  hand  by  the  sudden  disappearance  of  all 
the  women;  and  more  than  once  the  warning  has  been 
too  late. 

I  picked  up  the  basket  of  yams  which  one  of  the 
women  had  laid  down,  and  tried  its  weight  on  my 
shoulder.  It  was  amazingly  heavy,  and  though  I  was 
nearly  a  foot  taller  than  the  wizened  little  creature  who 
had  been  carrying  it,  I  should  not  have  cared  to  take  it 
very  far.  The  women  of  Malekula  are  bent  and  mis- 
shapen with  the  enormous  loads  they  are  obliged  to  carry, 


206  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

and  their  expression  is,  if  possible,  more  degraded  than 
that  of  the  men.  Pleasure  of  any  kind  is  a  thing  unknown 
to  them — there  is  nothing  for  them  to  enjoy  from  the 
pandanus-plait  cradle  slung  over  the  mother's  shoulder 
to  the  grave,  which  is  only  a  hole  scratched  in  the  surface 
of  the  earth,  unnamed  and  unremembered — if,  indeed, 
anyone  takes  the  trouble  to  bury  the  poor  little  corpse 
at  all.  I  shall  never  forget  the  face  of  a  bushwoman 
(who  came  down  to  the  mission-house  some  days  later, 
from  another  village,  carrying  yams  for  her  husband  to 
sell)  when  I  gave  her  a  pink  ribbon  and  tied  it  round  her 
neck.  A  sort  of  sacred  joy  seemed  to  overflow  her 
whole  countenance,  and  lift  her  far  above  the  things  of 
common  earth.  She  seemed  to  feel  ennobled  and  exalted 
by  this  wonderful  thing  that  had  happened.  That  she 
should  have  had  something  given  to  her — she,  a  woman ! 
— and  that  it  should  be  this  marvellous  piece  of  loveliness, 
this  nameless  thing  of  beauty!  Surely  the  skies  were 
going  to  fall!  She  was  all  one  ecstatic  grin  until  she 
went  away,  evidently  treading  on  air  and  feeling  six 
inches  taller;  and  I  was  glad  to  know  that  her  husband 
could  not  take  the  treasure  away  from  her,  as  anything 
that  had  been  worn  by  a  woman  might  never  afterward 
be  allowed  to  disgrace  the  form  of  the  superior  sex. 

The  basket  of  yams  was  not  an  easy  thing  to  handle, 
owing  to  its  irregular  shape,  and  I  was  careless  enough 
to  let  it  slip  and  fall  to  the  ground,  while  I  had  it.  There- 
upon from  all  the  fighting  men  rose  a  roar  of  laughter 
like  the  bellowing  of  a  herd  of  bulls.  I  had  not  known 
they  could  laugh  before,  and  I  certainly  did  not  want 
them  to  do  it  again.  I  asked  for  an  explanation,  and 
received  it  from  one  of  our  boys,  in  pigeon  English  of 
singular  quaintness.  ("Mary"  is  the  pigeon  English 
for  "woman.") 


MALEKULA— THE  OUTER  MAN     207 

"Mary  belong  Malekula  man;  she  carry  yam  all-a- 
time,"  the  youth  explained.  "Yam  he  break  very 
quick,  suppose  you  no  put  him  down  very  good.  You 
make  him  capsize,  that-fellow  yam;  all  a  Malekula  man 
he  say:  That-fellow  Mary  he  no  savee  carry  yam' — he 
plenty  laugh." 

It  was  my  horrid  ignorance,  then,  that  had  amused 
the  Malekulans — the  gross  want  of  education  I  displayed 
in  dropping  breakable  yams  on  the  ground.  Luckily, 
none  were  actually  broken.  "What  sort  of  a  woman 
is  this — what  use  is  she,  that  she  cannot  carry  yams. 
Where  was  she  raised?  Who  let  her  out?"  were  their 
obvious  comments. 

One  does  not  enjoy  being  pilloried  for  ignorance, 
even  in  the  wilds  of  the  New  Hebrides.  I  was  quite 
glad  when  the  procession  moved  on. 

Later  we  came  to  a  halt.  Most  of  the  men  had  gone 
on  in  front  of  us,  and  we  could  hear  them  singing  and 
dancing  in  the  village  above.  A  dozen  or  so  were  loafing 
about  the  pathway,  waiting  for  their  turn  to  go  up  and 
join  in  the  performances.  Our  native  guide  would  not 
let  us  go  on  for  some  time,  only  answering  our  questions 
with :  "  Very  good  you  no  go  firs' ;  that-fellow  stop  behin'. 
By-n'-by  he  go  on,  then  you  coming." 

When  the  fighting  men  were  all  safely  past  us  (I  do 
not,  and  did  not  at  the  time,  believe  that  they  intended 
any  treachery ;  our  boys  were  rather  a  nervous  and  over- 
cautious lot),  we  followed  after,  on  the  way  to  the  town 
which  now  lay  not  very  far  above. 


CHAPTER  XII 

MALEKULA— THE  INNER  MAN 

How  a  Malekulan  Town  is  Defended — The  Idol  Dance — 
Fintimhus  and  the  Pig — Gregorian  Chant  in  the 
Wilderness — What  are  the  Malekulans?  — An  Inter- 
view with  a  Cannibal  Chief — The  Lost  Opportunity — 
No  Admittance  to  the  Temple — A  Marvellous  Mummy 
— The  Bluebeard  Chamber — Making  of  a  Conical 
Skull — The  Captain's  Story 

THE  approach  to  the  town  was  remarkable.  For 
some  time  before  we  reached  the  fence,  the  narrow 
foot- track  ran  double,  and  in  places  treble.  One  could 
not  have  found  the  right  way  unaided,  save  by  chance, 
since  the  pathways  wound  about  in  a  puzzling  fashion 
that  was  evidently  designed  to  mislead.  At  the  last  turn 
below  the  village,  a  cluster  of  bullet-marks  showed 
conspicuously  on  the  bark  of  a  big  tree.  It  looked  rather 
as  if  the  crack  marksmen  of  the  place  were  fond  of  practis- 
ing long  shots  from  above  on  this  point — a  good  one  for 
the  effective  picking  off  of  undesired  callers. 

The  town,  when  we  reached  it,  we  found  to  be  ap- 
proached through  a  narrow  opening,  very  easy  to  defend 
in  case  of  attack.  It  was  surrounded  by  a  stockade,  and 
looked,  on  the  whole,  not  the  most  peaceful  place  in  the 
world.  At  the  far  end  stood  a  single  tall  gabled  house, 
the  village  hamal  or  temple.  The  other  houses  were  a 
mere  collection  of  miserable  huts,  roughly  built  of  reed 
and  bamboo,  and  with  no  walls  to  speak  of.     An  open 

209  , 


2IO  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

space  in  the  middle  surrounded  a  cluster  of  great  drum- 
idols,  with  the  usual  uncanny  skull-like  faces.  A  boy 
was  beating  these,  so  as  to  make  a  terrific  din ;  and  round 
and  round  the  idols,  in  the  brooding  heat  of  the  damp, 
gray  afternoon,  rushed  the  natives,  running  at  full  speed, 
and  singing  loudly  as  they  went. 

There  was  something  curiously  familiar  to  me  in 
the  whole  strange,  wild,  horrible  scene,  although  I  had 
never,  with  my  bodily  eyes,  looked  on  the  like  before. 
It  was  the  very  atmosphere  of  dreams  that  I  felt — ^bad 
dreams  of  the  restless  small  hours,  when  a  wearied  brain 
had  revenged  itself  upon  an  overtired  body  by  opening 
up  a  picture-book  of  ghastly  nightmares,  and  fluttering 
the  leaves  from  midnight  until  dawn  before  the  sleep- 
bound  mind.  The  very  air  was  thick  and  cloudy,  like 
the  air  of  dreams;  there  was  only  a  stray  gleam  of  sun- 
light every  now  and  then,  painting  sharp  Rembrandtesque 
effects  among  the  shadows,  as  the  ugly  black  figures 
fled  endlessly  past.  The  silence  of  all  except  the  singers 
added  to  the  illusion.  Women  stood  far  off  in  rows, 
dressed  out  with  armlets  of  white  pearl-shell,  bead  neck- 
laces, and  a  small  pandanus- woven  scarf  round  the  waist. 
They  held  a  tall  reed  in  each  hand,  and  leaned  on  it,  as 
they  shuffled  their  feet  silently,  stupidly,  noiselessly. 
Men,  with  an  inch-wide  belt  of  crimson  fibre,  set  in  an 
emerald-green  satin  strip  of  pandanus  leaf,  about  the 
waist,  and  countless  adornments  of  tortoise-shell  cuffs, 
bracelets,  and  earrings,  stood  in  motionless  groups  all 
over  the  village,,  looking  at  the  dance.  The  drums 
thundered  endlessly;  the  naked  figures  fled  ceaselessly, 
with  bent  heads  and  rushing  feet,  round  about  the  idols, 
while  the  wild,  monotonous  chant  went  on  and  on  and  on, 
as  if  it  never  would  end.  The  heavy  air,  and  probably 
a  touch  of  the  fever  that  is  never  very  far  away  from  the 


THE  WOMEN'S  DANCE 


DANCING  AND  SINGING 


MALEKULA— THE  INNER  MAN     211 

iSiand  traveller,  added  to  the  dream-illusion,  until  I 
could  have  sworn  that  I  was  somewhere  at  home  tucked 
up  (rather  too  warmly)  in  bed,  and  struggling  with  an 
unpleasant  nightmare  that  would,  of  course,  dissolve 
and  vanish  as  soon  as  somebody  came  to  call  me.     .     .     . 

.  .  .  Hour  after  hour,  the  dance  went  on ;  and  the 
heat  grew  worse  and  worse,  and  the  yelling  of  the  chant, 
and  thundering  of  the  idol-drums,  seemed  to  paralyse 
one's  very  brain.  ...  I  shall  never  be  sure  whether 
I  did  not  dream  the  dance  of  Atamat  and  Fintimbus, 
which  took  place  some  time — any  time — I  cannot  tell 
when — in  the  course  of  that  bewildering  afternoon. 

If  I  did,  I  dreamed  as  follows.  That  Atamat,  a 
notorious  cannibal  chief  and  a  famous  murderer,  with 
a  face  like  an  iron  devil,  and  limbs  like  the  trunks  of 
trees,  came  out  by  himself,  and  danced  a  solo  dance 
over  about  half  an  acre  of  ground.  The  chant  had 
ceased,  the  drums  were  silent;  in  absolute  stillness  he 
performed  his  dance.  His  bare  feet  made  no  noise  upon 
the  dusty  earth ;  like  some  evil  shadow,  he  flitted  sound- 
lessly over  and  over,  and  across  and  across  the  dancing- 
ground,  using  very  little  in  the  way  of  actual  steps,  but 
showing  wonderful  lightness  and  agility,  although  his 
immovable  countenance  and  far-seeing  eyes  never  for  a 
moment  altered  or  relaxed.  At  one  period  of  the  dance, 
it  seemed  evident  that  he  was  representing  a  bird  of 
prey;  and  the  representation  was  certainly  excellent — 
it  was  impossible  to  misunderstand  the  steady  sailing 
motion,  arms  slanted  or  outspread,  the  short  rising 
flutter,  and  the  quick  dart  or  pounce.  If  I  mistake  not 
greatly  this  is  a  cannibal  dance,  and  used  at  sacrificial 
feasts  for  the  way  in  which  the  dancer's  evil  eyes  glanced 
over  his  audience,  and  the  significance  of  the  sudden 
short  rush,  were  exceedingly  suggestive.     Atamat  is  a 


212  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

notorious  cannibal  himself,  and  there  is  certainly  not  a 
man  in  his  village  who  has  not  tasted  human  flesh;  for 
when  such  a  dainty  is  on  the  menu,  it  is  very  carefully 
shared  out  all  round,  even  the  small  children  getting  a 
bone  to  pick,  to  "make  them  strong." 

("He  plenty  good  ki-ki,  one-fellow  man,"  confessed 
an  old  man  on  the  beach  one  day.  "  Plenty  good,  Missi 
— all  same  one-fellow  chicken!") 

There  was  no  fear  of  a  cannibal  ending  to-day,  how- 
ever; for  all  the  women  were  in  sight,  and  moreover, 
the  Malekulans  are  modest  about  this  little  weakness 
of  theirs.  Like  Kipling's  hero,  "They  do  not  advertise " 
(when  whites  are  about) ,  and  if  they  had  contemplated  a 
bit  of  baked  man  as  a  treat,  it  would  not  have  been 
brought  out.  Nor  is  cannibalism  an  everyday  occurrence. 
If  a  man  is  shot  his  enemies  do  not  let  his  body  go  to 
waste,  provided  they  can  get  hold  of  it,  and  revenge 
often  fills  the  cooking-pots,  but  deliberate  killing  for  the 
sake  of  eating  is  not  common. 

But  the  second  part  of  the  dance  was  still  to  come. 
Atamat  had  not  long  finished  his  solo,  when  a  loud 
sound  of  chanting  was  heard  in  the  distance.  Nearer 
and  nearer  it  came,  and  at  last  into  the  town  at  the  head 
of  a  brave  following  stalked  a  young  chief  of  some 
importance,  named  Fintimbus.  With  him  Atamat  imime- 
diately  resumed  the  dance,  his  countenance  as  inexpres- 
sive as  ever. 

A  pretty  fellow  was  Fintimbus,  according  to  Male- 
kulan  ideas.  He  had  a  head  like  a  black  feather-mop, 
adorned  with  a  big  green  parrot-tail;  his  lips  occupied 
half  his  face,  and  his  skull  was  shaped  like  an  egg.  He  was 
handsomely  dressed  in  elbow-deep  cuffs  of  solid  tortoise- 
shell,  a  trade  cartridge-belt,  a  boar's  tusk  worn  locket- 
wise  on  his  breast,  and  a  pig's  tail  in  each  ear.     On  his 


IHE  DAXCK  OF  AIAAIAT  AND  i  INIIAIKLS 


If'- 

H 

'\''---'m'- 

ili' 

'■  '.       m              ^- 

^^^m 

IBIPI^^ 

A  DANCING  MASK 


MALEKULA— THE  INNER  MAN  213 

shoulder  he  carried  a  large  black  pig — alive — and  with 
this  singular  cotillion  favour  he  began  gravely  "setting 
to  partners"  to  Atamat,  who  had  now  provided  himself 
with  a  big  bouquet  of  palm  leaflets  and  crimson  ginger- 
flowers,  and  a  conch  shell  a  foot  long — ^both  things  being 
extremely  sacred  in  character,  and  also  acceptable  as 
I.  O.  U.'s  for  a  pig  in  case  you  didn't  happen  to  have 
one  handy  about  the  house.  Fintimbus,  it  seemed, 
had  made  an  offering  of  the  pig  he  carried  to  Atamat, 
and  the  latter  therefore  was  bound  to  furnish  a  "promise 
to  pay"  in  return.  The  whole  thing,  I  knew,  had  a 
symbolic  meaning  of  some  kind,  but  no  one,  then  or  there- 
after, could  tell  me  anything  about  it.  .  .  .  Alas  for 
that  scientific  expedition  that  has  never  been  to  Male- 
kula!  Even  an  ignoramus  like  myself  can  understand 
that  many  dark  points  in  the  history  of  primitive  races 
might  receive  light  from  a  patient  investigation  of  this 
tangled  mass  of  nationalities,  languages,  and  customs. 
Why,  why,  why?  I  kept  asking  myself  through  all  that 
marvellous  afternoon.  .  .  .  Why  were  the  flowers, 
after  being  offered,  laid  reverently  at  the  feet  of  a  little 
idol  that  stood  in  a  shrine  by  itself — why  were  the  pigs 
considered  sacred — and  why,  in  the  name  of  all  things 
that  drive  men  insane,  was  the  dancing  chant  of  this  wild, 
degraded,  unmusical  people  as  like  Gregorian  chant  as 
one  pea  in  a  pod  is  like  another?  I  should  certainly 
think  I  had  been  crazy  when  I  fancied  this,  were  it  not 
that  my  missionary  companion  remarked  himself  that  he 
had  often  thought  these  chants  exactly  like  the  sort  of 
thing  one  heard  when  passing  by  some  Continental 
cathedral ! .  .  .  No — there  was  no  mistake.  No  choir- 
singer  could  fail  to  recognise  that  steady  rise  and  fall, 
those  sad  minor  cadences,  those  stately  yet  monotonous 
intervals.     ...     I  do  not  say  that  the  heathens  of 


214  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

that  cannibal  town  sang  Gregorian  chant  as  we  know  it, 
while  they  danced  with  cocked  and  loaded  guns  round  the 
idol-drums  in  the  square,  but  I  do  say  that  the  two  things 
were  cousins,  and  not  far-off  cousins  at  that.  If  anyone 
wants  an  explanation,  I  can  only  recommend  him  to  go 
to  Malekula  and  look  for  it,  and  pray  for  better  luck 
than  mine. 

Atamat  and  Fintimbus  danced,  I  think,  for  about  an 
hour,  and  then  stopped.  I  do  not  know  why  they  stopped ; 
there  seemed  no  reason  why  they  should  not  go  on  for  ever. 
It  seemed  to  me  then,  as  they  had  come  to  an  end,  that  I 
ought  to  seize  the  opportunity  of  interviewing  such  a  cele- 
brated personage  as  this  notorious  chief,  so  I  went  up  to 
him,  and  tried  to  carry  on  a  conversation,  with  the  help  of 
a  mission  boy  who  didn't  know  Atamat's  language  at  all 
well,  and  certainly  knew  very  little  of  mine. 

Atamat  is  not  what  the  suburban  lady  would  call 
a  "nice  gentleman."  He  does  not  wear  clothes,  he  has 
no  manners  to  speak  of,  and  he  has  a  way  of  looking 
right  through  you,  as  if  he  saw  something  unpleasant 
just  behind  you,  but  didn't  think  it,  or  you,  worth 
mentioning,  that  is  rather  disconcerting.  I  offered  him 
my  hand;  he  took  it,  looked  at  it,  and  gave  it  back,  with 
a  countenance  devoid  of  any  expression  whatever.  I 
gave  him  some  tobacco;  he  grabbed  it  without  looking 
at  me,  bit  a  piece  off,  and  turned  his  shoulder  on  me. 
I  wanted  very  much  to  ask  him  "How  it  feels  to  be  a 
cannibal" — ^but  I  was  quite  sure  the  boy  was  not  equal 
to  that,  so  I  told  him  I  thought  his  dancing  very  good. 
At  this,  he  burst  out  into  a  wild  chant  celebrating  his 
own  virtues  and  excellences,  handed  a  yam  and  a  taro  to 
the  boy  as  a  return  for  my  tobacco,  and  walked  off,  still 
chanting.  And  that  was  all  the  notice  he  took  of  my 
insignificance,  then  or  afterward. 


MALEKULA— THE  INNER  MAN  215 

An  enormous  tusker  pig  was  then  led  in,  as  an 
addition  to  the  coming  feast,  by  a  procession  of  much 
be-painted  men,  who  entered  the  villages  talking  slowly, 
and  singing  as  they  went.  The  dance  had  now  gone  on 
for  several  hours.  I  was  decidedly  bored,  and  our  guides 
were  getting  anxious  to  be  away,  as  it  seemed  evident 
that  our  presence  was  not  enjoyed,  though  not  actually 
resented.  Sullen  unvSmiling  faces  had  watched  every 
movement  we  made  since  we  entered  the  town,  and 
there  was  an  atmosphere  of  "  To-what-do-we-owe-this- 
pleasure?"  that  was  both  unflattering  and  chilling. 
Of  one  thing  I  was  quite  certain,  long  before  the  after- 
noon was  over — that  Mr.  B had  been  in  the  right 

when  he  asked  me  not  to  bring  my  little  revolver  with 
me,  and  told  the  mission  boys  to  go  unarmed,  like 
himself.  The  Malekulan  is  above  all  things  suspi- 
cious, and  the  close  watch  kept  on  our  movements 
was  evidently  intended  to  detect  our  intentions  up 
there.  Our  only  way  of  assuring  the  people  that 
they  were  harmless,  was  to  bring  no  possible  means 
of  doing  harm. 

I  think  the  desired  impression  was  conveyed,  for 
just  before  we  finally  made  up  our  minds  to  start  home, 
a  sinister-looking  personage  swaggered  up  to  us,  and 
said  in  fairly  comprehensible  pigeon  English  something 

or   other   about   "the  Frenchman."     Mr.  B turned 

to  me  and  remarked:  "That's  a  celebrated  character 
' — ^the  fellow  who  killed  poor  G .  " 

"Yes,  I  killum  all  right,"  said  the  man  with  childish 
vanity,  watching  to  see  the  effect  of  his  words.  I  wanted 
to  secure  a  photograph  of  the  criminal  who  had  eluded 
the  pursuit  of  English  and  French  men-of-war  alike  for 
several  years;  but  this  was  no  simple  bushman  of  the 
hills,  and  he  quickly  got  out   of  range  of  my  camera. 


2i6  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

Indeed,  he  slipped  away  into  one  of  the  huts,  to  be  quite 
safe.     .     .     . 

.  .  .  It  was  several  weeks  after,  and  I  was  talking 
to  a  British  naval  officer,  in  a  civilised  house  near  Vila. 

"Why,"  said  the  naval  officer,  almost  tearing  his 
well-groomed  hair  with  disappointment — "why  on  earth 
did  you  not  bring  him  down  with  you  when  you  had 
him?" 

.     .     .     Six  miles  from  anywhere,  up  in  the  fighting 

country,    in   a   town   unknown   to   whites — Mr.    B , 

myself,  the  boat-boys,  with  a  pen-knife  and  two  hatpins 
among  us  for  arms,  against  two  or  three  hundred  mur- 
derous savages,  provided  with  rifles,  and  very  easy  to 
offend.  .  .  I  am  content  to  acknowledge  that  I 
thought  the  order  too  large  to  execute,  and  think  so  still. 
If  one  had  been  Deadwood  Dick,  or  Captain  Kettle,  and 
had  lived  in  a  book,  where  all  things  are  possible,  the 
outlaw  who  thus  amused  himself  by  defying  the  whites 
would  certainly  have  lived  to  repent  his  rashness.     Mr. 

B and  I  would  have  hypnotised  the  two  or  three 

hundred  warriors,  tripped  up  and  secured  the  murderer 
by  means  of  a  timely  display  of  "jiu-jitsu,"  and  made 
the  boatmen  carry  our  capture  down  to  the  shore — or 
else  we  should  have  timed  our  visit  to  come  off  just  as 
an  eclipse  was  due,  prophesied  its  arrival,  and  assured 
the  tribes  that  the  sun  would  never  come  out  again  unless 
they  gave  up  the  murderer  to  us  to  take  away.  That 
would  have  made  an  excellent  chapter,  and  proved  in  a 
flattering  manner  that  two  Britons  are  equal  to  two 
hundred  niggers  any  day  in  the  week. 

But  I  did  not  live  in  a  book  then,  dear  reader,  though 
I  am  living  in  one  now — so  I  let  the  outlaw  go,  and 
strapped  up  my  camera  for  departure,  only  concerned 
about  the  fact  that  we  should  be  very  late  for  supper, 


MALEKULA— THE  INNER  MAN     217 

at  the  rate  things  were  going.  And  then  we  walked 
single  file  out  of  the  wolf-mouth  entrance  to  the  cannibal 
town,  and  started  away  down  to  the  coast  once  more. 

The  dance  we  had  been  seeing,  I  understood,  was 
the  last  of  the  dancing  season.  It  is  only  at  certain 
times  of  the  year  that  the  Malekulans  get  up  these  fetes. 
The  missionaries  say  that  there  is  some  connection  with 
the  gathering  of  the  yam  harvest;  and,  so  far  as  I  could 
ascertain,  there  seems  certainly  to  be  a  flavour  of  heathen 
"harvest   thanksgiving"    about   the  proceedings. 

Circumstances  obliged  me  to  make  a  much  shorter 
stay  in  Sou'- West  Bay  than  I  should  have  wished.  I 
was  acting  as  correspondent  for  a  colonial  newspaper 
that  wanted  an  account  of  the  native  troubles  at  that 
time  prominent  in  the  group;  so  a  week  or  two  was  all 
I  could  spare  for  the  wonders  and  mysteries  of  the  Bay 
district.  Two  other  days,  however,  were  full  of  interest 
almost  equal  to  that  of  the  "harvest  thanksgiving" 
afternoon. 

On  one,  we  went  to  a  curious  little  village  on  the 
borders  of  the  inland  fiord  or  lagoon.  You  came  to  this 
village  by  two  well-defined  separate  paths,  approaching 
it  in  different  directions.  One  was  intended  for  men, 
the  other  for  women.  The  tribes  of  the  valley — who 
spoke  a  language  quite  different  to  that  of  the  tribes 
of  the  hill  above — did  not  allow  women  to  walk  upon 
the  same  pathway  as  the  "superior"  sex.  Further, 
in  this  part,  every  married  woman  was  distinguished 
by  a  dark  gap  in  the  ivory-white  teeth  of  her  upper  jaw, 
where  the  two  middle  incisors  had  been  knocked  out 
with  a  stone.  This  extremely  unpleasant  substitute  for 
the  wedding-ring  is  found  in  various  parts  of  Malekula. 
The  operation  is  performed  by  the  old  women  of  the  tribe, 
who  greatly  enjoy  the  revenge  they  are  thus  enabled  to 


2i8  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

take  on  the  younger  generation,  for  the  injury  once 
inflicted  by  their  elders  upon  them. 

Our  party,  it  may  be  noted,  took  the  men's  path 
going  up  to  the  village.  A  native  woman  would  have 
been  promptly  knocked  on  the  head  if  she  had  com- 
mitted such  a  sacrilege,  but  we  knew  that,  so  near  the 
coast,  the  people  would  not  resent  my  walking  over  the 
tabooed  ground,  and  it  is  always  advisable,  among 
savages  as  degraded  as  these,  to  emphasise  the  fact 
that  the  white  race  must  not  be  expected  to  conform 
to  native  regulations. 

There  was  no  getting  round  the  "regulations,"  how- 
ever, in  a  matter  of  very  much  more  importance — the 
question  of  seeing  inside  a  hamal,  or  sacred  house.  A 
village  right  on  the  coast,  where  the  people  had  quite 
a  decent  reputation,  possessed  a  remarkably  good  hamal, 
and  I  was  very  anxious,  the  day  we  visited  the  place, 
to  go  inside.  ...  It  might  have  been  scientific 
ardour,  or  it  might  have  been  feminine  curiosity — I 
could  not  undertake  to  say.  Anyhow,  I  wanted  to  get 
in  very  badly.     But  the  natives  would  not  hear  of  it. 

Mr.   B asked,  I  entreated,  we  both  offered  bribes. 

The  men  were  firm.     I  should  not  go  in,  they  said.     I 

should  not  even  put  my  head  inside  to  look.     Mr.  B 

might  go  if  he  liked;  not  the  woman,  on  any  account 
whatever. 

Mr.  B went  m,  and    came   out    enthusiastic    in 

praise  of  what  he  had  seen.  He  had  been  into  many 
hamals,  he  said,  but  never  had  he  found  such  carvings 
and  such  mummies.  The  latter  were  there  in  bunches, 
hanging  up  against  the  walls  and  roof-tree.  It  was  a 
terrible  pity  I  could  not  see  them,  for  no  museum  in  the 
world  contained  a  specimen,  and  very  few  people  even 
knew  that  they  were  made.     But  the  men  a-11  had  guns, 


BRIXGIXG  OUT  THE  MUMMY 


MALEKULA— THE  INNER  MAN  219 

and  they  were  extremely  emphatic  about  the  question 
of  my  entry.     It  was  clearly  no  use. 

We  then  set  to  work  to  persuade  the  villagers  into  at 
least  bringing  out  one  of  their  mummies,  that  I  might 
photograph  it.  At  first  they  refused  flatly,  but  a  good 
deal  of  worrying,  and  a  little  plug  tobacco,  at  last  brought 
success.  One  rather  good-natured-looking  youth  (he 
belonged  to  the  highest  type  of  Malekulan,  a  fairly  well- 
featured  kind)  went  into  the  hamal,  and  produced  a 
wonderful  thing,  which  he  set  up  against  the  gable,  warn- 
ing Mr.  B not  to  let  me  come  too  near,  or  touch  the 

sacred  object. 

It  appeared  to  be  the  stuffed  skin  of  a  man,  fastened 
on  poles  that  ran  through  the  legs  and  out  at  the  shoul- 
ders. The  fingers  of  the  hands  dangled  loose  like  empty 
gloves.  The  hair  was  still  on  the  head,  and  the  face  was 
represented  by  a  rather  cleverly  modelled  mask  made 
of  vegetable  fibre,  glued  together  with  bread-fruit  juice. 
In  the  eye-sockets,  the  artist  had  placed  neat  little  cir- 
cular coils  of  cocoanut  leaf,  and  imitation  bracelets  were 
painted  on  the  arms,  The  face  and  a  good  part  of  the 
body  were  coloured  bright  red.  The  ends  of  the  stretcher 
poles  were  carved  into  a  curious  likeness  of  turtle  heads. 
Standing  up  there  in  the  dancing  light  and  shade  of  the 
trees,  against  the  high  brown  wall  of  the  hamal,  the 
creature  looked  extraordinarily  weird  and  goblin-like. 
It  had  a  phantom  grin  on  its  face,  and  its  loose  skinny 
fingers  moved  in  the  current  of  the  strong  trade  wind  .  .  . 
it  certainly  looked  more  than  half  alive. 

Well,  I  was  glad  to  have  seen  it,  but  it  is  certainly 
not  the  sort  of  object  I  should  care  to  decorate  my  own 
hall  with,  as  I  understand  a  local  resident  has  done  with 
one  that  he  was  lucky  enough  to  get  as  "loot"  during  a 
recent  punitive  raid.     That  is  the  only  occasion  on  which 


220  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

one  could  secure  a  specimen  of  these  remarkable  mum- 
mies. No  money  would  tempt  the  natives  to  part  with 
one,  voluntarily. 

I  may  here  add  that  I  did  succeed  in  seeing  the  inside 
of  a  hamal  later  on — near  Uripiv,  along  the  coast,  if  my 
memory  is  not  at  fault  as  to  the  name.  It  was  during 
the  leisurely  tour  in  the  steamer  down  toward  Vila  again. 
The  hamal  was  near  the  shore,  and  I  came  upon  it  during 
the  course  of  a  walk  with  one  or  two  passengers.  It 
was  not  nearly  so  handsome  as  the  building  in  Sou'- 
West  Bay,  but  as  it  stood  by  itself,  and  as  there  was 
nobody  near  except  a  few  unarmed  old  men  and  a  woman 
or  two,  it  presented  a  chance  which  I  should  have  been 
sorry  to  miss.  I  hastily  got  over  the  bamboo  fence  and 
went  inside,  in  company  with  the  other  passengers.  It 
was  very  dark,  and  at  first  we  could  see  nothing,  but 
by-and-by  we  were  able  to  perceive  a  number  of  skulls 
carefully  laid  away  on  shelves,  like  pots  of  jam,  and  a 
dozen  or  two  mummies,  hanging  up  on  the  supporting 
posts  of  the  roof.  Some  of  these  were  like  the  figure  I 
had  seen  in  Sou'-West  Bay;  others  seemed  to  be  simple 
skeletons  covered  with  vegetable  padding  painted  red. 
There  were  also  adzes,  killing-mallets,  and  drum-sticks 
of  various  sizes,  curiously  carved  into  the  likeness  of 
semi-human  faces,  and  painted  roughly  in  colours.  The 
whole  place  smelt  far  from  agreeably,  and  I  did  not  want 
to  be  caught,  in  case  the  old  men  went  off  to  tell  tales,  so 
I  came  out  after  a  few  minutes,  and  went  down  to  the 
ship  again,  as  it  was  getting  near  sailing  time.  After- 
ward, I  heard  that  my  sacrilege  had  been  seen,  and  that 
it  was  in  consequence  very  fortunate  for  my  health  that  I 
had  the  steamer  waiting  outside  to  take  me  off. 
I  am  inclined  to  think  that  if  ever  I  go  back  to  Male- 


TOWN  OF  LEMBA-LEMBA 


INFANT  HEAD-BINDING 


MALEKULA— THE  INNER  MAN  221 

kula,  I  shall  do  well  to  avoid  the  neighbourhood  of  that 
hamal.     But  anyhow,  I  saw  the  Bluebeard  chamber! 

It   was   while    I   was   staying   with   the   kindly   and 

hospitable  B s  (there  are  four  families  in  the  New 

Hebrides  whom  I  shall  always  remember  with  infinite 

gratitude,  and  the  B s  are  one)  that  I  had  the  chance 

of  photographing  what  I  believe  has  never  been  photo- 
graphed before — the  making  of  a  conical  head. 

A  good  many  years  ago,  certain  men  of  science  who 
had  procured  skulls  from  all  parts  of  the  world  were 
struck  with  the  extraordinary  egg-like  shape  of  some 
that  came  from  Malekula.  No  one  knew  much  about 
the  people  who  owned  these  remarkable  heads,  and 
Science,  forthwith,  erected  rather  a  pretty  theory  on  the 
basis  furnished  by  the  skulls,  placing  the  owners  on  the 
lowest  rung  of  the  human  ladder,  and  inferring  that  they 
were  nearer  to  the  ape  than  any  other  type  at  that  time 
known. 

Later  on  someone  happened  to  discover  how  it  was 
that  the  skulls  came  to  show  this  peculiar  shape,  and 
the  marvel  vanished,  when  it  was  known  that  compression 
in  infancy  was  the  cause.  It  is  still,  however,  a  curious 
thing  enough.  Several  other  nations  compress  their 
Infants'  heads,  but  none  seems  to  attain  quite  such  a 
striking  result  as  the  Malekulan,  in  those  districts  where 
the  custom  is  systematically  practised.  A  conical  head, 
when  really  well  done,  rises  up  to  a  most  extraordinary 
point,  and  at  the  same  time  retreats  from  the  forehead  in 
such  a  manner  that  one  is  amazed  to  know  the  owner 
of  this  remarkable  profile  preserves  his  or  her  proper 
senses — such  as  they  are.  I  could  not  hear,  however, 
that  the  custom  was  supposed  to  affect  the  intellect  in 
any   way. 


222  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

("It  would  be  hard  to  affect  what  they  haven't  got," 
observed  a  trader,  on  this  subject.) 

The  conical  shape  is  produced  by  winding  strong 
sinnet  cord  spirally  about  the  heads  of  young  babies, 
and  tightening  the  coils  from  time  to  time.  A  piece 
of  plaited  mat  is  first  put  on  the  head,  and  the  cord  is 
coiled  over  this,  so  as  to  give  it  a  good  purchase.  The 
crown  of  the  head  is  left  free  to  develop  in  the  upward 
and  backward  fashion  that  is  so  much  admired.  One 
fears  the  poor  babies  suffer  very  much  from  the  process. 
The  child  I  saw  was  fretful  and  crying,  and  looked  as  if 
it  were  constantly  in  pain;  but  the  mother,  forgetting 
for  the  moment  her  fear  of  the  strange  white  woman, 
showed  it  to  me  quite  proudly,  pointing  out  the  cords  with 
a  smile. 

She  had  a  normally  shaped  head  herself,  and  it 
seemed  that  she  had  suffered  by  her  parents'  neglect 
of  this  important  matter,  for  she  was  married  to  a  man 
who  was  of  no  particular  account.  A  young  girl  who 
was  standing  beside  her  when  I  took  the  photograph, 
had  evidently  had  a  more  careful  mother,  for  her  head 
was  almost  sugar-loaf  shaped.  It  is  interesting  to  know 
that  this  well-brought-up  young  woman  had  married  a 
chief. 

Malekulan  skulls  are  considered  rather  Valuable 
curios  in  these  days,  and  it  is  hard  to  obtain  one.  I 
succeeded  in  getting  a  native  of  Sou'-West  Bay — never 
mind  how — to  steal  one  for  me  out  of  a  temple.  I  do 
not  know  what  happened  after,  but  I  am  quite  sure  that 
my  coloured  friend  took  good  care  of  his  own  valuable  skin. 

The  captain  of  the  steamer  rather  envied  me  my 
acquisition,  when  I  came  to  go  away.  He  had  one, 
but  it  was  not  such  a  good  specimen.  The  story  of 
its  acquisition,  however,  is  worth  repeating. 


MALEKULA— THE  INNER  MAN  223 

"I  wanted  a  skull  for  some  time,  but  I  couldn't 
hear  of  one,"  said  the  amiable  sailor.  "However, 
last  trip  but  one,  a  fellow  with  a  sack  came  up  in  a 
canoe  and  said  he'd  something  for  me.  I  told  him 
to  come  aboard,  and  blest  if  he  didn't  tumble  out  on 
the  deck  a  raw  new  head,  eyes  in  and  hair  on  and  all! 
'What  the,  etc.,  etc.,  do  you  mean,'  says  I,  'bringing  that 
filthy  thing  on  to  my  ship?'  'I  think  you  wantum 
one-fellow  head,'  says  he.  'So  I  do,'  says  I;  'but 
I  don't  want  a  dirty  thing  of  that  kind;  it's  a  nice  clean 
skull  I  want,'  says  I;  'and  what's  more,  my  man,' 
I  says,  'I'd  like  to  know  where  you  got  it  anyhow, 
for  you're  a  pack  of  murderers,  the  lot  of  you.'  'Oh, 
he  all  right,  he  right, '  says  the  fellow  in  a  terrible  hurry ; 
'plenty  all  right,  I  tell  you!  Pappa  belong  me,  he 
go  finish  yes'erday,  and  I  bring  him  head;  I  think  you 
give  me  big-fellow  tobacco!'  ('My  father  died  yester- 
day; I  have  brought  his  head;  give  me  a  great  deal  of 
tobacco.') " 

"I  did  get  a  skull  after  all,  next  trip,"  he  added, 
reminiscently,  "and  I  put  it  into  a  basin  of  carbolic 
to  soak,  though  it  looked  all  right.  And,  as  I'm  a 
living  man,  if  a  cockroach  the  size  of  a  mouse  didn't 
run  out  of  each  eye,  and  one  out  of  the  nose,  and  there 
they  sat  on  the  top  of  the  skull  and  grinned  at  me !  .  .  . 
Where  are  you  off  to?     It  isn't  near  tea-time  yet!" 


CHAPTER  XIII 

MALEKULA— PAGAN  AND  WARLIKE 

Idols  of  the  New  Hebrides — The  Famous  Poisoned  Arrows — 
The  Threatened  Schooner — The  Breaking  of  Navaar 
— An  Ill-natured  Sea-Chief 

ON  THE  subject  of  the  idols  of  Malekula  there  is  at 
least  a  volume  to  be  said,  but  it  must  wait  for 
speakers  more  competent  than  myself.  I  did  not  go 
up  to  the  New  Hebrides  to  make  scientific  observations — 
first,  because  I  was  not  qualified  to  do  so  in  a  manner 
that  could  add  anything  worth  having  to  scientific 
knowledge  in  general;  and  secondly,  because  I  went  to 
the  islands  partly  on  business,  and  largely  for  fun — 
two  objects  quite  incompatible  with  serious  research, 
even  if  I  had  been  capable  of  the  latter. 

For  all  that,  no  one  possessed  of  a  decent  education 
and  an  average  share  of  curiosity  could  journey  through 
these  mysterious,  little- visited  islands  without  constantly 
"wanting  to  know"  (like  Rosa  Dartle)  a  hundred  things 
that  no  one  can  tell;  and  most  of  them  are  connected 
with  the  images  of  idols.  The  missionaries,  for  whom 
I  have  every  respect,  are  unable  as  a  rule  to  help.  The 
magnificent  opportunities  which  they,  and  they  only, 
enjoy  in  these  islands  would  make  any  scientific  man 
tear  his  hair  with  envy — embittered  envy,  too,  since 
no  use,  as  a  rule,  is  made  of  these  rare  facilities 
by  those  who  possess  them.  I  do  not  see,  however, 
that  the  missionaries  are  to  be  blamed.   Their  education, 

325 


226  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

being  strictly  specialised,  has  not  been  of  a  kind 
to  lead  them  to  take  interest  in  such  matters,  or  to 
realise  their  importance;  moreover,  their  case,  as  they 
put  it  themselves,  is  reasonable.  They  are  too  busy, 
they  say,  destroying  all  these  customs  and  beliefs  to 
waste  time  in  studying  them,  and  too  much  interest 
displayed  toward  them  would  hamper  their  real  work, 
by  leading  the  natives  to  suppose  that  "heathen" 
ideas  were  worth  consideration.  One  may  respect 
such  a  position,  while  strongly  disagreeing  with  it. 

Some  missionaries,  however,  have  been  sufficiently 
interested  in  the  strange  customs  about  them  to  take 
notes  that  may  be  really  useful,  especially  in  time  to 
come,  when  the  advancing  wave  of  civilisation  shall 
have  swept  away  much  that  survives  at  present. 
Among  these  is  Mr.  Watt  Leggatt,  to  whom  I  am  indebted 
for  permission  to  quote  the  following  article  from  the 
Journal  of  the  Royal  Anthropological  Society  of  Australasia : 

"A  visitor  to  the  island  of  Malekula,  New  Hebrides,  is  greatly 
impressed  by  the  huge  images  in  the  amils  or  village  squares; 
they  are  rudely  carved  and  barbarously  painted.  His  first  idea  is 
that  they  are  idols,  but  he  learns  that  there  is  no  worship  paid 
to  them  after  they  are  once  set  up.  On  being  told  that  they  are 
temes,  or  images  of  the  dead,  he  naturally  concludes  that  they  are 
representations  of  distinguished  chiefs  who  have  become  demi-gods. 

"Now  while  it  is  true  that  the  Malekulans  do,  in  circumstances 
of  danger,  e.g.,  in  a  storm,  shout  appeals  to  their  grandfathers  for 
help  and  protection,  yet  these  images  do  not  represent  the  apotheosis 
of  individual  ancestors  recently  deceased.  There  is  a  very  general 
opinion  that  such  is  the  case,  but  a  little  investigation  shows  it 
to  be  erroneous. 

"I  think  that  they  are  rather  the  representations  or  tutelary 
spirits  of  the  different  ranks,  grades  or  castes  into  which  Malekulan 
men  are  divided.  These  are  divided  from  each  other  by  many 
barriers,  the  most  striking  of  which  is  that  no  man  of  rank  can  eat 
food  prepared  on  the  fire  of  one  lower.     He  cannot  even  light  his 


MALEKULA— PAGAN  AND  WARLIKE       227 

fire  with  a  brand  from  the  other;  but  must  make  a  new  fire  either 
with  matches  or  the  old-time  fire-stick. 

"It  will  be  noticed  that  these  Temes,  Demits,  or  Natemate 
differ  greatly  from  each  other.  Some  are  made  of  wood,  others 
of  the  butt  of  a  fern-tree,  some  are  painted  in  scrolls  or  stripes, 
others  in  rings.  Some  display  only  a  head,  others  are  rude  effigies 
of  the  whole  human  body.  In  some  the  eyes  are  round,  in  others 
oval-shaped,  and  curiously  it  was  this  trifling  difference  that  first 
attracted  my  attention. 

"As  the  images  were  always  spoken  of  as  the  property  of 
some  one  or  other,  and  noticing  that  each  man  erected  a  new  one 
for  himself,  I  naturally  concluded  that  they  were  memorials  of 
his  ancestors.  The  ignorance  of  the  present  generation  as  well 
as  the  reluctance  of  the  older  men  to  discuss  such  subjects  for  a 
long  time  prevented  further  knowledge.  By  degrees,  however, 
I  noticed  that  an  image  of  a  different  kind  was  set  up  by  the  same 
man  as  he  advanced  from  one  rank  to  a  higher. 

"Quite  lately  while  visiting  the  Maskelyne  Islands  on  the 
south-east  coast  of  Malekula,  the  whole  matter  was  cleared  up. 
The  people  there  are  perhaps  deficient  in  the  artistic  skill  of  their 
fathers,  or  may  be  while  enjoying  the  festal  rites,  singing,  dancing, 
killing  and  feasting  on  pigs,  they  grudge  the  time  spent  in  searching 
for  suitable  trees  or  laboriously  carving  out  new  gods.  Like 
impecunious  students  at  some  of  our  universities  who  purchase 
or  hire  second-hand  gowns  or  hoods  to  enable  them  to  pass  for 
their  degrees,  our  Maskelyne  Islanders  buy  the  necessary  Natemate 
from  their  pastmasters,  and  resell  them  when  they  step  higher. 
He  must,  however,  retain  it  while  he  remains  in  the  rank  it  denotes, 
and  if  he  dies  in  that  degree  it  is  planted  at  his  door. 

"I  have  read  of  a  similar  custom  in  the  island  of  Maewo, 
where  the  ownership  of  some  valuable  mats  is  eagerly  contested. 
Too  fragile  to  be  removed,  they  hang,  smoke-begrimed,  in  a  dingy 
hut ;  but  the  honour  of  being  known  as  their  possessor  amply  com- 
pensates the  man  for  the  pigs  he  has  paid  for  them.  Of 
course,  he  can  always  get  value  for  them  by  passing  them  on  to 
another. 

"In  the  Maskelynes  there  are  ten  grades,  each  with  its  dis- 
tinguishing Natemate. 

"  (i)  Taresing.  For  which  four  boar  pigs  with  tusks  are  paid 
as  initiation  fee.     The  image  is  a  rough  post,  five  feet  high  and  six 


^28  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

inches  in  diameter.  It  is  called  Nahau,  has  a  face  roughly  carved 
at  the  top,  and  is  painted  blue  and  red. 

"(2)  Balanrum,  Six  pigs.  The  image  called  Savanral  is 
somewhat  like  a  cross  with  the  arms  sloping  upward.  It  is  painted 
in  scroll  designs  in  red,  white,  and  blue.  The  head  is  painted 
black,  with  little  white  feathers  plastered  over  it. 

"(3)  Alunk.  Six  pigs.  A  fern-tree  image  called  Bataru, 
six  feet  high,  coated  with  brown  clay  on  which  black  designs  are 
traced.  At  the  back  of  the  head  two  short  shafts  stand  up  like 
the  handles  of  a  wheel-barrow. 

"  (4)  Matalau.  Nine  pigs.  The  image  called  Lovwis  is  a 
long  fern-tree  trunk,  carved  with  human  figures  or  faces.  They 
have  all  got  short  sticks  through  the  septum  of  the  nose. 

"(5)  Bwiliau.  Twelve  pigs.  The  image  Ambang  is  like 
Savanral  but  is  painted  entirely  red.  In  front  of  it  two  tiny  human 
figures  called  Mengov  are  set  up.  They  wear  caps  of  dried  cocoa- 
nut  husk. 

"  (6)  Bwilbon.  Thirteen  pigs.  Bwila.  A  short  figure  of 
wood,  painted  in  scrolls  of  red,  white,  and  black,  with  boar's  tusks 
from  the  jaws  to  the  ears.     There  is  hair  on  the  top  of  the  head. 

"  (7)  Vilvilbon.  Thirteen  pigs.  A  large  fern-tree  figure  called 
Vilvil 

"  (8)  Balias.  Ten  pigs.  Short  figure  painted  in  red  perpen- 
dicular stripes. 

"  (9)  Meleun.  Ten  pigs.  A  figure  about  seven  feet  high, 
painted  in  red  and  black  perpendicular  stripes.  It  is  placed  under 
a  thatched  roof.     Behind  it  is  a  small  circle  of  flat  upright  stones. 

"  (10)  Amat  (high  chief).  I  could  see  no  image,  but  was 
told  that  it  was  a  long  carved  pole.  On  another  island  I  was  shown 
a  small  carved  stone  image  as  the  symbol  of  this  rank.  I  am 
doubtful  if  this  is  so.  For  this  rank  ten  boar  pigs  are  distributed, 
and  three  killed.  I  have  no  doubt  that  there  is  a  corresponding 
division  in  each  Mangke,  as  the  ceremony  is  called,  but  I  had 
omitted  to  inquire  at  the  time. 

"There  is  an  extra  Mangke  called  Tan  melev  for  which  three 
pigs  are  killed.  The  image  is  a  long  pole  of  hardwood  carved 
with  human  figures  and  faces. 

"The  colours  employed  in  olden  times  were  coral  lime,  yellow 
oclire,  a  mineral  green,  and  charcoal.  Civilisation  through  the 
trader  has  supplanted  the  green  and  yellow  with  laundry  blue 


MALEKULA— PAGAN  AND  WARLIKE       229 

and  red  lead.  They  are  more  brilliant,  no  doubt,  but  less  in  keep- 
ing with  their  surroundings. 

"A  remarkable  fact  is,  that  although  the  images  are  rude  in 
design,  and  out  of  all  proportion,  they  are  real  attempts  at  por- 
traying the  human  figure.  Every  part  is  carefully  put  in,  yet 
with  the  exception  of  the  boar's  tusks  on  one  there  is  an  entire 
absence  of  the  combination  of  the  human  and  animal,  as,  e.g.,  in 
the  Hindu  pantheon.  This  is  possibly  due  to  imperfect  and 
rudimentary  notions  of  divinity,  if  these  are  at  all  gods.  There 
are  no  figures  like  the  Ephesian  Diana  denoting  the  nourishment 
of  man  and  beast  from  many-breasted  Nature.  There  are  no 
many-handed  or  many-eyed  emblems  of  the  omnipotence  or  omnis- 
cience of  the  gods.  We  are  still  among  the  lowest  and  rudest 
forms  of  religion. 

"It  is  noteworthy  that  there  are  no  female  figures,  although 
there  are  some  on  North  Malekula. 

"The  Natemate  are  set  up  round  the  Amil  in  no  particular 
order  that  I  could  see.  When  set  up,  reeds  and  ornamental  shrubs 
are  planted  round  them,  but  only  the  highest  were  covered  over. 

"I  hope  others  will  pursue  this  interesting  subject  of  which 
I  have  but  touched  the  fringe.  The  imagery  of  North  and  West 
Malekula  has  many  distinctive  features  which  will  repay  a  careful 
study.  We  know  next  to  nothing  about  the  symbolism  of  the  huge 
drums,  why  some  have  one  face  and  others  have  two,  with  three 
eyes  so  ingeniously  arranged  that  they  serve  as  a  pair  for  each  face. 
We  are  entirely  ignorant  as  to  the  meaning  of  the  great  bird  head 
and  outspread  wings  projecting  from  the  ridges  of  the  shrines,  and 
the  prows  of  the  canoes.  I  am  sure  that  a  knowledge  of  their 
meaning  would  solve  much  that  is  mysterious  in  Malekulan  mythol- 
ogy, as  many  of  their  dances  are  representations  of  the  dart  from 
covert  and  flight  of  a  bird.  Possibly  their  meaning  is  as  obscure 
to  the  present  generation  of  natives  as  to  ourselves,  but  there  is 
still  hope  that  an  investigation  iindertaken  now>  may  bring  impor- 
tant facts  to  light." 

To  this  I  can  add  a  few  notes  of  my  own.  The 
very  curious  idol  in  the  form  of  an  arch,  which  I  have 
illustrated,  does  not  seem  to  be  at  all  common,  and 
is   evidently  not   known   in  the  district   of  which  Mr. 


230  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

Watt  Leggatt  writes.  On  the  mainland  of  Malekula, 
it  certainly  appeared  to  me  that  some  sacred  idea  attached 
to  all  the  images  in  general,  and  there  was,  I  heard  from 
a  native  some  advantage  (I  could  not  make  out  what) 
obtainable  by  walking  under  the  arch-idol.  A  curious 
parallel,  this,  to  the  "  wishing-arches "  familiar  in  our 
own  country! 

The  image  with  a  double  face — one  face  being  carved 
below  the  feet — is  also,  I  heard,  very  uncommon.  Its 
upper  face  was  the  one  that  interested  me  the  most, 
from  the  peculiar  type  of  the  features.  This,  as  I  under- 
stood, is  an  image  of  a  very  old  traditional  type.  It  is  hard, 
under  the  circumstances,  to  understand  where  the  flat- 
featured  Malekulan  obtained  such  an  idea,  for  the  features 
of  the  image  are  undoubtedly  those  of  a  higher  race. 

"Higher  race — well,  I  don't  know,"  commented 
an  irreverent  Australian  who  saw  the  photograph  some 
weeks  later.  "Looks  to  me  like  the  very  living  portrait 
of   Mephistopheles   in   what-d'-you-call-em ! " 

There  certainly  is  a  flavour  of  the  arch-tempter 
about  the  mocking  face  of  the  image.  .  .  .  Will  some 
learned  person  kindly  explain? 

The  question  of  the  poison  used  for  native  arrows 
is  rather  a  vexed  one  in  the  islands.  They  are  very 
commonly  carried,  and  opinion  seems  to  agree  on  the 
point  that  a  wound  from  one  almost  invariably  causes 
death  within  ten  days — generally  about  the  ninth  day. 
Most  of  the  white  people  believe  that  these  arrows  are 
poisoned  by  being  steeped  for  weeks  in  a  decaying 
corpse.  One  or  two  of  the  missionaries,  however,  say 
that  this  is  not  the  case,  and  that  human  bones,  mostly 
dug  up  after  burial,  are  used  for  the  points;  death,  in 
consequence,  being  caused  by  blood-poisoning  of  an 
ordinarv  kind. 


MALEKULA— PAGAN  AND  WARLIKE      231 

I  cannot  say  what  the  exact  truth  may  be;  possibly 
both  statements  are  correct,  as  customs  may  differ 
in  different  places.  I  was  fortunate  enough  myself, 
in  Sou'-West  Bay,  to  come  upon  a  native  carrying 
a  bundle  of  poisoned  arrows  as  used  in  that  district, 
and,  as  one  of  the  mission  boys  was  near,  I  asked  him 
to  interpret  my  wish  to  see  the  arrows.  The  man — 
who,  as  the  photograph  proves,  was  a  singularly  ugly- 
looking  wretch,  even  for  Malekula — ^unwrapped  the 
arrows  with  a  grin,  and  held  them  out  to  me  to  look 
at.  They  had  long  sharp  points  without  barbs,  covered 
so  thickly  with  a  brown  gluey  stuff  that  it  was  impossible 
to  see  of  what  the  points  were  really  composed.  These 
arrows  are  always  carried  wrapped  up  in  a  neat  little 
parcel  of  banana  leaf,  so  as  to  prevent  any  accidental 
injury  to  the  owner.  The  ordinary  unpoisoned  arrows 
have  long  iron  points  with  a  row  of  small  barbs,  and 
are  carried  without  protection. 

There  is  always  the  greatest  difficulty  in  finding 
out  anything  about  native  customs,  since  the  people 
are  extremely  reserved  and  distrustful,  and  the  number 
and  variety  of  languages  makes  it  most  difficult  to 
exchange  ideas.  A  native  who  can  speak  a  little  pigeon 
English  may  try  to  inteipret  but  it  is  probable  that 
he  knows  the  other  man's  language  imperfectly,  and 
is  incapable  himself  of  even  understanding  the  nature 
of  your  idea.  "Dead  man"  is  about  as  near  as  most 
people  can  get  to  an  account  of  the  manufacture  of 
poisoned  arrows.     It  is  unsatisfying,  if  sensational. 

On  this  particular  occasion,  I  suspected  that  there 
was  something  not  "purely  Pickwickian"  about  the 
carrying  of  those  arrows,  so,  after  giving  them  back, 
and  adding  a  present  of  tobacco,  I  asked  ingratiatingly 
what  the  old  gentleman  wanted  them  for?     He  giggled, 


232  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

and  made  a  reply  which  my  interpreter  translated  as 
"For  killum  man."  Pressed  to  give  further  details, 
he  chuckled  still  more,  and  rapidly  retreated  toward 
the  bush. 

.  .  .  I  was  not  at  all  suprised  when  a  row  of  rather 
wild-looking  "bushies,"  all  armed,  appeared  from 
nowhere  in  particular,  in  the  course  of  the  next  few  minutes, 
and  began  hanging  about  the  mission  grounds.  The 
boy  said  he  was  pretty  sure  they  meant  no  harm  to  us, 
but  he  thought  they  did  not  mean  any  good  to  the  recruit- 
ing schooner  that  had  come  into  the  bay  overnight,  for 
they  had  been  asking  angrily  where  were  the  friends  that 
the  schooner  should  have  brought  back  to  the  bay  from 
the  plantations — and  their  behaviour  was  undoubtedly 
warlike.  (What  he  really  did  say  was  something 
like  this:  "  I  no  think  that  fellow  he  make  bad  for  misi- 
nari;  I  think  he  plenty  cross  that  schooner  no  takee- 
him  come  him  friend!")  The  schooner  in  question 
was  one  that  enjoyed  a  rather  unsavoury  reputation; 
she  had  been  in  trouble  over  illegal  recruiting  more 
than  once,  and  no  one  would  have  been  surprised  to 
hear,  at  any  time,  that  her  owners  had  paid  in  blood 
the  penalty  of  their  bad  faith — as  so  many  before  them 
had  had  to  pay,  among  these  lawless  New  Hebrides. 

She  had  come  into  the  bay  the  evening  before,  and 
had  made  the  recognised  recruiting  signal,  by  exploding 
a  piece  of  dynamite  set  adrift  on  a  plank.  Next  morning, 
her  two  boats,  painted  vivid  scarlet,  the  recruiting  colour, 
had  been  out  bright  and  early,  but  for  some  reason  or 
other  they  had  not  ventured  to  run  up  on  the  shore 
and  had  merely  been  rowing  up  and  down  the  bay.  .  .  . 
Small  wonder  that  they  hesitated,  if  their  consciences 
were  ill  at  ease,  in  a  spot  like  Sou'- West  Bay,  where 
over  and  over  again  the  sands  had  been  reddened  with 


MALEKULA— PAGAN  AND  WARLIKE       233 

the  blood  of  recruiting  crews!  The  natives  have  long 
memories,  and  they  pay  back  with  compound  interest, 
where  they  consider  that  they  "owe  one" — if,  indeed, 
they  do  not  attack  out  of  pure  wantonness,  as  some- 
times  occurs. 

I  got  out  the  camera  when  I  saw  the  party  of  bush- 
men  coming  down  to  the  shore,  and  tried  to  take  a 
photograph.  These  were  sophisticated  savages,  how- 
ever, and  they  were  on  an  errand  that  they  did  not 
wish  to  advertise.  So  most  of  them  hid  their  faces 
when  they  saw  me  focussing,  and  the  resultant  picture 
showed  very  little. 

Warning  would  have  been  sent  from  the  mission 
house  to  the  ship,  only  that  it  proved  to  be  unnecessary, 
for  the  boats,  after  a  little  more  rowing  about,  were 
recalled  to  the  vessel,  and  she  set  sail  and  went  off 
without  having  landed  a  man.  And  the  bushinen,  like 
the  Snark,  "softly  and  silently  vanished  away,"  and 
we  all  went  in  to  tea. 

The  punitive  expedition  into  the  interior  of  Malekula, 
which  took  place  in  October  1905,  a  few  days  before 
my  visit,  had  an  excellent  effect  in  calming  down  the 
island  generally.  It  started  from  Bushman's  Bay, 
and  its  immediate  cause  was  the  challenge  sent  out 
by  the  men  of  Navaar  to  the  whole  British  Empire. 
They  had  been  murdering  stray  whites,  and  carrying 
on  a  hot  campaign  against  the  natives  of  an  outlying 
island,  which  endangered  the  lives  of  the  missionaries 
and  traders  very  seriously,  as  the  people  of  Bushman's 
Bay  fired  recklessly  night  and  day  across  the  water, 
sending  bullets  right  into  the  white  settlement.  Being 
told  by  the  men-of-war  people  to  send  down  the  chiefs 
for  a  conference,  and  further,  to  stop  that  kind  of  thing 


234  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

at  once,  they  sent  a  message  to  say  that  the  man-of-war 
was  an  old  woman,  and  that  they  declared  war  on 
England!  If  the  white  chiefs  wanted  to  see  them, 
they  added,  they  might  come  up  and  do  it.  This  was, 
of  course,  intended  as  a  mere  defiance,  for  Navaar 
(which  had  been  brewing  all  the  mischief),  was  eleven 
miles  up  in  the  mountain  interior,  and  had  never  been 
even  approached  by  white  men. 

The  French  and  English  warships,  however,  "had 
much  pleasure  in  accepting  the  kind  invitation"  of 
Navaar.  They  brought  a  large  party  of  bluejackets 
to  the  entertainment,  and  a  Maxim  gun  or  two;  and 
they  had  surrounded  Navaar,  and  placed  the  offenders 
in  a  position  where  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  submit, 
before  the  latter  well  knew  where  they  were.  After 
the  prisoners  were  secured,  there  was  a  brief  scuffle 
caused  by  the  natives  turning  suddenly  on  their  captors 
in  a  body.  Several  Malekulans  were  killed,  and  the 
British  leader.  Commander  D'Oyly,  had  an  extremely 
narrow  escape  from  a  fatal  stab.  But  the  rising  was 
nipped  in  the  bud  ere  well  begun,  and  a  number  of  very 
sad  and  sorry  heathens  went  down  to  the  shore  that 
day,  under  strong  escort.  Later  on,  all  were  released 
under  promise  of  good  behaviour;  which,  strange  to 
say,  they  kept.  The  claws  of  the  worst  fighting  place 
in  Malekula  had  been  effectively  cut,  and  white  men 
and  women's  lives  henceforth  became  possessions  of 
reasonable  certainty,  down  in  the  coast-lands  below. 

The  note  of  comedy  is  never  wanting  in  savage 
warfare.  Wala  and  Rano,  two  of  the  islands  on  the 
coast,  had  been  sternly  told  that  they  must  stop  their 
quarrels  and  make  peace,  because  the  lives  of  the  whites 
were  endangered  by  their  rifle-firing  across  the  water. 
A  chief  from  Wala  asked  humbly  to  see  the  Great  Sea- 


MALEKULA— PAGAN  AND  WARLIKE       235 

chief  of  the  ship,  as  he  wished  to  make  terms.  He 
was  allowed  to  come  on  board  the  Pegasus  where,  according 
to  orders,  the  bluejackets  put  him  in  a  canvas  tank, 
gave  him  what  he  never  had  had  before  in  his  life — a 
thorough  scrubbing — ^before  he  was  admitted  to  the 
presence  of  the  captain.  Trembling  all  over,  and  utterly 
subdued  by  this  terrifying  experience,  he  proffered  his 
humble  request.  They  would  certainly  make  peace, 
he  said — they  would  do  all  they  were  told — they  would 
never  fire  a  shot  again — only,  there  was  just  one  favour 
they  would  like  to  ask.     Could  the  captain  grant  it? 

"  Certainly, ' '  was  the  reply.  "  Any  reasonable  request 
will  be  granted,  if  it  is  at  all  possible.     What  is  it?" 

It  was  a  very  reasonable  request  indeed,  said  the 
envoy,  and  the  Great  Sea-chief  could  grant  it  without 
any  inconvenience.  All  they  wanted,  before  settlmg 
down  to  peace,  was  that  he  should  give  them  a  man 
from  Rano  to  eat!  Just  one,  no  more,  and  the  captain 
might  choose  him  for  them — they  would  trust  entirely 
to  his  selection. 

.  .  .  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  report  the  reply  they 
got.  But  I  believe  the  men  of  Wala  to  this  hour  believe 
that  the  sea-chiefs  of  Great  Britain  suffer  from  strange 
prejudices,  and  are  not  at  all  good-natured! 


CHAPTER  XIV 

HOT  TIMES  IN  TANNA 

Hot  Times  in  Tanna — An  Island  of  Murderers — The  Terror 
that  walks  in  Darkness — A  Tannese  Village — Avenging 
a  Chieftain — Was  it  an  Accident? — A  Council  of  War — 
Netik — The  Work  of  British-made  Bullets 

TANNA  is  the  southernmost  but  one  of  the  New 
Hebrides  and  enjoys  a  rather  better  cHmate  than 
the  northern  islands,  although  the  fevers  are  quite  as 
bad  as  those  of  Malekula  or  Santo.  It  is  about  twenty 
miles  by  ten;  mountainous  and  rugged  in  the  interior, 
and  difficult  to  get  about,  as  there  are  very  few  tracks, 
and  those  not  of  the  best.  It  has  no  harbours  to  speak  of, 
and  the  anchorages  are  bad. 

This  last  statement  did  not  excite  my  attention 
very  much  when  I  came  across  it  in  various  local  works 
of  reference.  It  seemed  to  me  that  Tanna's  deficiencies 
in  that  particular  line  were  matters  that  concerned 
only  the  shipping  companies  and  the  captains  directly 
affected  by  them.  Myself  they  did  not  interest,  or 
at  least  I  thought  so,  until  a  certain  November  morning, 
when  I  found  myself  standing  on  the  deck  of  a  Bums 
Philp  steamer,  surrounded  by  all  my  wordly  goods, 
and  looking  with  a  very  blank  countenance  toward  the 
biscuit-coloured  coast  of  the  island  which  I  was  going  to 
visit,  and  upon  which  I  had  just  been  informed  I  could  not 
possibly  land.  There  was  a  tumbling  blue-and-white  sea 
on,  and  the  captain  declined  to  risk  his  boats. 

237 


238  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

"What  am  I  to  do?"  I  asked. 

"Go  on  to  Aneityum,"  said  the  captain  pleasantly. 
"We  get  there  to-morrow,  and  there'll  be  a  steamer 
back  here  in  a  day  or  so." 

"And  if  the  weather  is  no  better  then?" 

"Why,  you  can  go  back  to  Vila,  and  try  again  in 
three  weeks'  time!" 

The  situation  did  not  seem  to  admit  of  comment. 
I  walked  aft,  and  sat  down  in  the  midst  of  a  clutch 
of  Presbyterian  mission  babies,  feeling  very  much 
like  the  Malekulan  in  a  pet,  whom  I  had  seen  coursing 
up  and  down  his  native  shores  not  long  ago,  calling 
out  at  intervals,  "Oh,  I  am  angry!  I  want  a  man 
to  eat!" 

Two  residents  of  Tanna,  who  were  also  desirous 
of  getting  off  at  Lenakil,  watched  the  shore  with  excited 
interest.  The  sea  began  to  go  down  a  little,  and  it 
looked  as  if  we  might  have  a  chance,  should  any  shore 
boat  venture  off.  And  one  did  come  off  later  on,  dancing 
and  skipping  alongside  the  steamer  after  a  fashion 
that  made  me  thankful  for  my  two  years  of  "rough- 
ing" it  about  the  Pacific.  To  the  traveller  fresh  from 
home,  the  methods  of  landing  passengers  that  obtain 
about  the  islands  seem  at  first  a  very  bad  joke,  and  then 
a  very  unpleasant  reality.  Later,  you  grow  callous; 
you  become  used  to  the  dangling  rope  ladder  skipping 
above  the  plunging  boat,  and  the  playful  billow  that 
drops  a  ton  of  cold  water  in  your  lap,  and  the  unbroken 
reef  that  must  be  literally  jumped  on  the  crest  of  a  wave, 
the  narrow  passage  full  of  tumbling  foam,  and  edged 
by  coral  splinters  and  pinnacles  as  sharp  as  broken  glass ; 
the  squall  that  may  get  up  at  any  inopportune  moment, 
and  maroon  you  for  a  month  where  you  least  desire  to 
stay — and  all  the  other  little  excitements  that  attend 


TAXNESE  SCAR-TATTOOING 


HOT  TIMES  IN  TANNA  239 

embarking  and  disembarking  about  the  "sunny  isles 
of  Eden,"  beloved  by  poets  who  have  never  been  there. 

We  landed  safe  and  dry  after  all,  the  kind  hosts 
who  had  invited  me  to  share  their  home  during  ni}^ 
stay  remarking  pleasantly  that  I  was  on  Tanna  now, 
and  I  might  think  myself  lucky  if  I  got  off  again  when 
I  wanted,  for  the  uncertainty  of  when  you  might  arrive 
was  only  equalled  by  the  uncertainty  of  getting  away. 

Tanna,  we  found  on  landing,  had  been  enjoying  a 
very  hot  time  of  late.  Drought  and  bush  fires  had 
destroyed  a  good  deal  of  vegetation,  and  the  island 
looked  dry  and  burnt  up.  The  tribes  were  "at  it  again," 
and  more  than  twenty  murders  (which  is  the  Tanna  form 
cf  making  war)  had  taken  place  in  the  last  three  months. 
The  house  and  plantation  of  a  well-known  trader  had  been 
all  but  destroyed  by  a  fire  which  was  deliberately  started 
by  certain  hostile  tribes,  to  burn  up  each  other's  gardens. 

Tanna  is  always  fighting  more  or  less,  and  its  popula- 
tion— ^which  could  otherwise  in  all  probability  hold  its 
own — is  rapidly  diminishing.  It  has  about  five  thousand 
people,  and  seventy  or  more  are  shot  each  year — men, 
women,  and  children — besides  a  large  number  who  are 
more  or  less  seriously  wounded.  The  arms  used  are 
mostly  old  Sniders  and  Martinis,  with  an  occasional 
good  modern  rifle.  The  bullets  are  about  the  most 
brutal  things  ever  fired  from  a  gun.  They  are  great 
limips  of  lead,  as  large  as  the  rifle  can  take,  and  have  a 
very  heavy  charge  of  powder.  When  they  strike  they 
break,  and  inflict  the  most  appalling  wounds,  splintering 
bones,  tearing  out  flesh  by  the  handful,  and  scat- 
tering destruction  almost  like  a  small  shell.  I  could  not 
ascertain  where  they  were  made,  but  they  seemed  very 
like  the  kind  of  thing  generally  used  for  elephants  and 
other  big  game  by  sportsmen.     I  have  heard  it  suggested 


240  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

that  they  are  a  special  manufacture,  and  meant  for  just 
the  uses  to  which  they  are  put.  The  maker,  in  any  case, 
is  too  modest  to  stamp  his  name  on  his  work. 

The  Tanna  people  are  a  remarkable  race,  and,  in 
spite  of  their  murderous  tendencies,  have  a  great  deal 
more  character  than  the  Malekulans.  Queenslanders 
know  them  well,  for  thousands  of  Tannese  have  been 
employed  in  the  Queensland  sugar  country  from  time  to 
time.  Whatever  they  may  have  gathered  of  civilisation 
in  Australia  stays  with  them  but  a  little  while  after  they 
leave.  On  landing  they  generally  take  off  all  their  clothes, 
go  back  to  their  villages,  paint  their  faces,  and  take  a 
hand  in  the  latest  tribal  row,  only  too  glad  to  be  back 
to  savagery  again.  They  let  their  hair  grow,  and  engage 
a  hairdresser  to  do  it  in  proper  Tannese  style — no  trifling 
job  this,  since  it  means  an  hour  or  two  a  day  for  many 
weeks. 

The  hair  is  divided  into  minute  locks  of  about  a  score 
of  hairs  apiece,  and  each  of  these  is  wound  round  from 
the  base  to  within  a  few  inches  of  the  end,  with  very 
fine  fibre,  so  that  the  lock  looks  exactly  like  a  piece  of 
tough  twine,  with  a  bushy  tassel  at  the  end.  When 
the  whole  head  is  completed,  the  effect  is  very  striking, 
as  there  are  many  hundreds  of  these  tassel  strings,  ending 
in  a  great  bush  upon  the  shoulders.  A  fillet  of  some  kind 
confines  the  hair  over  the  forehead — a  scarlet  trade 
ribbon,  a  strip  of  satiny-green  pandanus  leaf,  or  some- 
times what  looks  like  a  long  hank  of  tiny  amber  beads 
on  a  flossy  white  skein  of  thread.  This  last  is  not  what 
it  seems,  however,  being  in  reality  a  kind  of  fish-spawn, 
often  found  in  masses  floating  on  the  sea. 

Most  of  the  men  wear  armlets — a  circle  of  carved 
cocoanut,  a  trade  bracelet  made  of  china,  or  a  strip  of 
dried  grass,  with  a  gay  bunch  of  scarlet  flowers  thrust 


SH(>(JIIX(;  I-ISH 


j 


NIGHT  REFUGE 


HOT  TIMES  IN  TANNA  241 

through  it.  The  rest  of  the  costume  consists  merely  of 
a  leaf  or  two.  The  women  wear  a  short  kilt  of  dried 
grasses,  made  full  and  spreading,  and  rather  suggestive 
of  an  emu's  tail  at  the  back.  Both  sexes  are  generally 
ornamented  with  rows  of  parallel  scars,  or  lines  of  raised 
dots,  made  with  the  knife.  The  men  are  generally  heavily 
bearded,  and  strongly  built;  the  women  are  of  fair  size, 
and  occasionally  rather  passable  in  looks.  They  are  a 
cheerful-looking  race  and  quite  devoid  of  the  sulky, 
hang-dog  look  that  disfigures  most  other  New  Hebrideans. 
Indeed,  the  Tannese,  when  not  actively  engaged  in  mur- 
der or  cannibalism,  is  not  at  all  a  bad  sort  of  fellow.  He 
is  an  excellent  sailor,  and  a  splendid  boatman,  always 
cheerful,  if  well  fed,  decently  treated,  and  always  ready 
for  an  extra  spurt  of  work,  on  any  special  occasion. 
Like  the  Fijians,  who  were  at  one  time  the  fiercest  and 
most  brutal  cannibals  of  the  Pacific,  and  who  are  now 
a  peaceful  and  respecting  nation  worthy  of  the  Crown 
that  owns  them,  the  Tannese  will  in  all  probability 
"train  on"  into  a  really  fine  race,  as  soon  as  they  can  be 
restrained  from  continually  murdering  each  other  on  the 
slightest  provocation,  and  induced  to  clean  their  houses 
and  themselves,  and  live  decently  and  quietly. 

A  day  or  two  after  my  arrival  I  got  a  native  guide 
and  walked  to  Lamanian,  a  village  some  three  miles 
up  in  the  bush,  with  the  view  of  seeing  something  of 
the  fighting  country.  About  Lenakil  the  tribes  are  always 
at  war,  and  a  perfect  reign  of  terror  prevails  among  the 
natives.  The  Tannainan  dare  not  sleep  in  his  village 
by  night,  for  fear  of  sudden  surprise.  After  dark  he 
creeps  out  to  the  bush,  and  hides  himself  in  a  hole  or  a 
gully  till  the  morning.  In  the  still,  moonless  hours  he 
may  wake  with  a  start,  and  hear  a  stealthy  footstep 
padding  through  the  reeds  close  beside  him,  and  to  feel 


242  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

the  thud  of  a  rifle-stock  struck  down  on  the  earth  within 
a  yard  of  his  hiding-place,  in  the  hope  of  discovering  where 
he  lies.  The  foot  passes  on — ^he  is  safe — ^but  he  cannot 
sleep  now;  he  must  get  up,  and  creep  with  painful  care 
through  the  scrub  and  the  reeds  to  some  yet  lonelier, 
yet  more  secret,  spot.  Is  that  the  dawn  at  last,  spreading 
in  faintest  water-gray  through  the  stems  of  the  reeds? 
It  is — he  must  rise,  shivering  and  weary,  and  hurry 
home  to  the  shelter  of  the  village,  before  daylight  sur- 
prises him  out  alone  in  the  bush,  where  every  tree  may 
hide  a  murderer.  And  as  he  goes  he  keeps  his  rifle  over 
his  shoulder,  ready  cocked  and  loaded,  for  he  knows  that 
the  enemies  he  fears  fear  him  equally,  and  to-morrow  night 
he  himself  may  be  crawling  on  all  fours  about  the  stockade 
of  some  hostile  village,  or  gliding  through  the  bush  on 
the  other  side  of  the  bay,  stalking  just  as  he  has  been 
stalked.     Such  is  the  Tannaman's  life  in  these  days. 

On  the  way  up  to  Lamanian  we  passed  a  good  many 
yam  gardens,  but  only  in  one  was  any  one  working. 
Here  we  found  a  few  women  digging  and  scraping  under 
the  guard  of  two  or  three  armed  men.  The  women 
nearly  all  had  blackened  faces — the  Tannese  sign  of 
mourning.  The  yam  garden  was  a  waste  of  parched  and 
powdery  earth;  the  bush  around  was  burned  yellow 
and  brown;  the  pale  sky  above  quivered  with  the  fierce 
midday  heat.  Stolid,  ugly,  and  streaming  with  sweat, 
the  women  worked  dully  on,  breaking  off  for  a  few 
minutes  to  stare  and  wonder  at  the  visitor,  and  then 
continued  their  heavy  task.  It  was  a  weariful  picture. 
About  the  approach  to  the  village  the  scrub  had 
been  extensively  cleared  away,  to  prevent  ambush. 
The  high,  plaited-reed  fence  that  surrounded  the  huts 
was  something  of  a  safeguard,  slight  though  it  was,  since 
it  could  not  easily  be  seen  through  by  wandering  sharp- 


HOT  TIMES  IN  TANNA  243 

shooters.  My  native  guide  told  me  that  it  was  some- 
times supplemented  by  a  portable  bullet-proof  fence,  a 
few  yards  in  circumference,  inside  which  the  women 
sat  and  did  their  cookery. 

The  village  itself  was  an  ugly  collection  of  low  ram- 
shackle huts,  built  of  reeds  and  thatch.  Its  one  beauty 
was  the  great  banyan-tree,  which  is  never  absent  from 
a  Tannese  town.  Just  at  the  entrance  a  tobacco-pouch, 
a  water-bottle,  and  a  cartridge-case  were  hung  on  a 
banana-tree,  silent  memorials  of  the  last  man  who  had 
been  killed  by  the  opposing  tribe.  Most  of  the  Lamanian 
men  were  away,  stalking  the  enemy  through  the  bush 
and  reeds  of  the  hills,  but  two  or  three,  armed  as  usual, 
were  left  to  stand  guard  over  the  women. 

There  were  some  odd  things  hung  up  in  the  banyan- 
tree — strange-shaped  roots,  fungi,  neat  little  bundles 
of  sticks  tied  up  like  firewood.  I  was  told  that  the  last 
were  records  or  tallies  of  the  biggest  spiders'  cocoons 
that  had  been  found !  When  a  Tannaman  finds  a  spider's 
cocoon  he  counts  the  eggs,  and  registers  the  number 
with  a  bundle  of  sticks,  one  for  each  egg.  It  is  his 
ambition  to  "go  one  better"  than  the  next  village  in 
the  score  thus  obtained.  The  other  objects  were  simply 
curiosities.  The  banyan,  in  fact,  is  the  village  museimi. 
I  could  not  find  that  there  was  any  religious  association 
connected  with  these  curious  attempts  at  "nature  study" ; 
they  seemed  to  be  entirely  scientific.  More  purely 
utilitarian  was  the  oddly  shaped  box  I  noticed  in  the 
middle  of  the  village — explained  as  follows  by  my  pigeon- 
English-speaking  guide: 

"One  time  Lamanian  man  he  keep  a  bee  there; 
now  I  think  the  bee  he  clear  out ! " 

Another  day  I  went  up  to  Imale,  where  there  was 
rumour   of   serious  fighting.     It   was   thought  that  an 


244  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

attack — or  something  as  near  to  an  attack  as  the  Tannese 
ever  make — would  be  made  on  this  place  in  the  course  of 
the  day,  for  the  Lowinnie  men,  who  were  hostile,  knew 
that  a  meeting  of  two  tribes  was  to  be  held  at  Imale  that 
morning,  and  it  was  probable  that  they  would  try  to 
take  advantage  of  the  occasion.  My  host,  the  missionary 
of  the  district,  went  with  me.  We  carried  no  arms,  as 
there  may  be  risk  in  doing  so  in  Tanna,  and  there  cannot 
be  much  protection.  As  in  Malekula,  absence  of  firearms 
at  once  proclaims  the  peacefulness  of  the  visitor's  errand, 
so  that  he  can  approach  a  fighting  village  safely,  as  a 
general  rule.  If  the  natives  had  any  grudge  against  him, 
and  wished  to  kill  him,  he  would  be  shot  from  ambush 
in  the  back,  so  that  firearms,  even  if  carried,  would  not 
be  much  use. 

The  walk  up  from  the  beach  where  we  left  our  boat 
to  the  hill  village  of  Imale  was  exceedingly  hot,  as  there 
was  a  very  steep  rise,  and  no  air  circulated  through  the 
tremendous  reeds — over  fifteen  feet  high — that  shut  in 
the  track.  Every  here  and  there  these  were  cut  away 
so  as  to  give  a  clear  view  ahead,  and  prevent  surprise 
from  any  one  creeping  softly  along  the  open  path  round  a 
comer.  We  advanced  quickly  and  rather  noisily  to  the 
village,  and  found  a  score  or  two  of  men  sitting  about 
the  square,  nursing  their  guns.  Right  across  the  centre 
of  the  open  space  lay  an  immense  branch,  cut  down 
from  the  great  banyan  overhead — a  sign  of  vengeance 
and  a  call  for  blood.  The  chief  of  the  village  had  been 
killed  by  the  enemy,  and  this  bough  had  been  cast  across 
the  village  square  to  symbolise  his  fall,  and  act  as  a  con- 
tinual reminder.  To-day  it  was  to  be  burned,  for  a 
friendly  tribe  from  the  other  side  of  the  bay  had  killed 
the  slayer  of  the  chief,  and  his  spirit  was  avenged.  A 
dozen  or  two  of  this  tribe  had  slipped  away  at  dead  of 


HOT  TIMES  IN  TANNA  245 

night  in  their  boat,  and  come  up  to  Imale  in  the  dark. 
They  were  now  going  to  receive  their  reward  from  the 
new  chief  of  the  village,  who  was  the  brother  of  the  man 
that  had  been  slain. 

No  objection  was  made  to  our  presence,  and  while 
the  missionary  engaged  in  a  little  conversation  with  a 
man  he  was  hoping  eventually  to  convert  from  heathen- 
ism, I  roamed  about  the  square,  photographing  and 
talking.  I  was  not  understood,  but  I  did  not  under- 
stand the  replies  I  received  either,  so  things  were  even. 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  military  science,  in  a  small 
way,  about  the  disposition  of  the  fighting  men.  The 
women  they  had  placed  in  an  enclosure  behind  a  high 
reed  fence.  Some  of  their  own  number  were  perched 
in  high  trees  overlooking  the  approaches  to  the  village; 
others  were  squatted  down  on  their  heels,  gun  in  hand, 
at  the  two  entrances.  The  rest  sat  or  lay  about  the 
village,  keeping  an  intermittent  lookout  while  they 
talked,  or  stared  at  us  with  a  kind  of  sullen  curiosity. 

I  was  sitting  on  the  fallen  banyan  log,  and  watching 
the  villagers  set  fire  to  the  far  end  of  it,  when  two  or 
three  men  came  hurriedly  into  the  square,  and  rushed 
up  to  an  ugly  old  chief,  who  seemed  to  have  quite  as 
much  influence  as  the  titular  head  of  the  village.  They 
carried  a  small  green  parcel,  wrapped  in  banana  leaf 
and  neatly  tied  with  native  fibre.  Everybody  wanted 
to  see  it  at  once;  all  heads  were  bent  over  it,  and  all 
eyes  strained,  while  the  old  man  untied  the  parcel,  and 
disclosed — a  lump  of  fresh  yam! 

The  celebrated  footprint  in  "Robinson  Crusoe" 
could  not  have  caused  more  excitement.  To  whom 
did  the  yam  belong?  Whence  had  it  come?  How 
had  it  been  dropped  where  it  was  found,  right  in  the 
middle  of  a  track  leading  up  to  the  village?     No  one 


246  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

knew  anything  about  it.  It  seemed  obvious  that  "an 
enemy  had  done  this  thing,"  and  an  enemy  who  must  be 
unpleasantly  near  to  the  village  at  that  minute. 

Nothing  could  be  done;  so,  after  a  good  deal  of 
chatter,  the  old  man  merely  told  his  followers  to  keep 
a  good  lookout,  and  went  on  with  his  conversation, 
which  chiefly  concerned  the  disposal  of  an  enemy's  body 
supposed  to  have  been  partly  eaten  by  him  a  few  days 
before.  The  missionary  and  I  both  wanted  to  know 
about  it — he  because  he  wished  to  discourage  this  sort 
of  festivity ;  I  because  I  wanted  to  get  a  thigh-bone  as  a 
curiosity.  It  could  not  have  hurt  the  gentleman  who 
had  been  made  a  roti  of,  and  it  would  have  been  very 
useful  to  me.  But  the  old  chief  was  "foxing";  he  had 
never  heard  of  cannibalism,  not  he;  the  man  hadn't 
been  eaten  at  all — he  wasn't  even  sure  that  he  had  been 
killed. 

Such  an  innocent,  amiable  old  man  as  he  looked! 
Such  a  simple,  child-like  smile  as  he  put  on!  His  gray 
hair,  tied  up  in  a  red  and  white  pocket-handkerchief, 
looked  wonderfully  venerable  and  reverend,  and  he 
himself  everything  that  was  respectable — an  impression 
hardly  detracted  from  by  the  circumstance  that  he  wore 
no  other  clothes  save  the  head-dress  referred  to.  And 
yet — ^his  fox-like  old  eye,  shifting  and  twinkling  under 
those  pent-house  brows.     .     .     . 

"Now,  look  here,  you  know  you  did!"  says  the 
missionary  plumply. 

The  nice  old  gentleman's  smile  takes  on  a  different 
character — ^becomes,  in  fact,  a  giggle,  like  that  of  a 
schoolgirl  caught  eating  surreptitious  chocolates. 

"Well — I   eatum  jus'   little-fellow    bit!"   he   allows. 

At  this  naive  admission  (based  on  a  model  that  most 
people  will  recall)  I  cannot  help  laughing  irreverently; 


HOT  TIMES  IN  TANNA  247 

and  just  at  that  moment,  as  Rider  Haggard  would  say, 
"a  strange  thing  happens."  The  fifteen  warriors  squat- 
ting at  the  other  side  of  the  square  suddenly  rise  as  one 
man  to  their  feet,  and  point  their  guns  straight  at  us. 
We  are,  in  fact,  in  the  position  of  a  couple  of  deserters 
facing  a  firing-party.   There  might  be  pleasanter  positions. 

"Stop  that!"  yells  the  missionary  in  Tannese;  and 
the  natives  lower  their  guns,  looking  a  trifle  astonished. 
The  old  chief  explains.  It  is  quite  a  simple  explanation 
as  he  puts  it — ^they  saw  a  head  moving  some  way  behind 
us  in  the  scrub,  so  they  were  going  to  fire  at  it;  that  is 
all.  The  circumstance  of  our  heads — and  bodies — being 
equally  in  the  line  of  fire  is  evidently  not  regarded  as 
pertinent  to  the  matter  in  hand. 

.  .  .  Was  it  an  accident,  or  what  schoolboys  call 
an  **  accident al-done-on-purpose  ? ' '  We  never  knew.  The 
New  Hebridean  mind  is  what  Lewis  Carroll  would  call 
"scroobious  and  wily" — and  no  white  man  can  follow 
its  turnings.  It  is  quite  capable  of  planning  to  kill  you, 
for  no  conceivable  reason,  and  abandoning  the  plan,  also 
without  reason,  and  in  a  minute.  All  that  one  can  be 
certain  of  about  a  New  Hebridean  is  that  there  is  no  cer- 
tainty in  him. 

It  is  now  time  for  the  pigs  and  kava,  and  a  loud 
grunting  and  scuffling  forthwith  arises  behind  the  scenes. 
The  visitors  are  to  be  paid  for  the  death  of  the  enemy 
they  killed;  and  the  payment  takes  the  form  of  four 
fine  large  black  pigs,  and  a  great  heap  of  the  root  out  of 
which  the  Tannaman's  favourite  drink  is  concocted. 

These  are  brought  in  in  stately  procession.  The 
pigs  are  then  knocked  on  the  head  with  clubs,  and  give 
up  the  ghost  without  a  struggle,  though  they  look  ugly 
enough  afterward,  lying  there  in  a  blood-stained  heap. 
The  recipients  would  rather  have  had  them  alive,  but 


248  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

custom  prescribes  that  this  blood-money  must  be  given 
Hterally  stained  with  blood. 

And  now,  relaxing  their  keen  watch  a  little — ^for  no 
sufficient  reason,  since  the  enemy  are  just  as  likely  to  be 
about  now  as  they  were  half  an  hour  ago — the  men  begin 
to  make  speeches,  and  talk  over  the  events  that  led  up 
to  the  murder  for  which  they  have  just  been  paid.  One 
of  the  visiting  tribe  gets  up,  and  walks  backward  and 
forward,  talking  and  gesticulating  excitedly. 

He  seems  to  take  turns  with  the  old  chief,  who  walks 
out  and  back  to  meet  him  from  the  other  side,  talking 
too.  They  are  very  like  the  figures  in  a  fine- weather 
mantelpiece  toy — one  out,  the  other  in.  A  native  who 
speaks  some  English  translates.  It  seems  that  between 
them  they  are  going  back  over  the  local  history  of  the 
last  two  or  three  years,  registering  every  kill  on  one  side 
or  the  other,  and  working  themselves  up  by  enlarging 
on  their  wrongs. 

It  is  warmer  than  ever  now;  the  bare  dusty  square 
is  simmering  in  the  sun,  and  the  sky  is  almost  white 
with  heat.  Even  the  naked  Tannamen  feel  it;  they 
crowd  together  under  the  shade  of  the  big  banyan- 
tree,  turning  their  bushy,  bearded  heads  and  wild,  fierce 
eyes  as  one  man  toward  the  speaker  of  the  moment. 
Stray  lances  of  the  stabbing  sunlight  touch  the  bandoliers 
of  cartridges  that  they  wear,  making  a  faint  twinkle  on 
the  dull  brass  and  rusty  buckles,  and  glancing  off  upon 
the  long  barrels  of  the  guns,  that  move  and  shake  in  the 
shadow  like  ranks  of  tall,  steel  reeds.  Above,  in  the 
immense  aerial  forest  of  the  banyan  boughs,  a  mighty 
swarm  of  locusts  screams  and  chirrs  ceaselessly.  .  . 
If  one  were  lying  ill  of  fever  in  one  of  those  wretched, 
sun-smitten  huts,  how  fast  that  torturing  chorus  would 
drive   one  to  suicide  or  madness!     .     .     . 


HOT  TIMES  IN  TANNA  249 

And  still  the  speeches  go  on. 

"When  will  they  stop?"     I  ask. 

"  There's  no  knowing.  It  may  go  on  all  day.  The  other 
tribe  will  probably  not  dare  to  go  home  before  dark." 

"  Then  I  suppose  we  may  as  well  go  ourselves."  And 
we  went. 

Down  on  the  beach,  the  boat's  crew  were  busy  load- 
ing wood,  so  I  wandered  off  to  see  the  refuges  that  the 
people  of  Imale  had  been  making  use  of  at  night.  Here 
and  there,  hidden  among  the  pandanus  and  hibiscus 
scrub  close  to  the  shore,  I  came  upon  low  shelters  of 
plaited  palm-leaves,  laid  against  rude  rough  fences  of 
reed  and  leaf,  meant  to  hide  the  faint  glow  of  a  cooking- 
pit — ^baskets  of  food  hung  upon  trees ;  old  blankets  lying 
in  the  sun  at  the  mouth  of  some  dark  cave.  These  are 
the  places  where  the  unfortunate  villagers  hide  them- 
selves after  dark.  An  enemy  may  creep  into  a  village 
square  at  night,  slip  his  rifle  barrel  inside  a  hut,  and  kill 
the  sleepers;  but  he  can  hardly  hunt  the  whole  bush 
for  his  quarry.  So  the  people  of  the  hills  hide  themselves 
near  the  shore  at  night,  miles  away  from  their  own  houses, 
and  return  at  break  of  day. 

Not  long  after,  I  had  a  chance  of  seeing  the  Lowinnie 
tribe,  the  very  one  whose  approach  had  been  feared  by 
the  folk  of  Imale. 

From  the  house  where  I  was  staying,  I  saw  a  long 
string  of  bush  people  winding  in  single  file  down  toward 
the  sea.  I  followed  them,  armed  with  my  camera,  and 
found  them  down  on  the  beach,  the  men  standing  about 
with  cocked  and  loaded  guns,  guarding  the  women  as 
they  bathed  in  the  sea.  More  than  one  woman  of  this 
tribe  had  lately  been  shot,  so  they  were  especially  careful 
of  the  rest,  for  women  are  valuable  property  in  Tanna, 
worth  several  pigs  apiece. 


250  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

It  was  a  bright  and  vivid  scene — the  intense  white 
sun  beating  on  the  snowy  beach  of  broken  coral,  the 
briUiant  green  vines  traiUng  across  the  strand,  the  burn- 
ing blue  sea,  shading  into  clear  apple-green  close  to  shore ; 
the  wild  brown  faces,  and  gleaming  smiles  of  the  women, 
excited  by  the  importance  of  their  armed  bodyguard. 
They  wore  the  usual  small  fringe  of  grass  about  the  hips ; 
they  had  rubbed  their  bodies  well  with  cocoanut  oil,  and 
their  brown  skins  shone  with  unwonted  sleekness  and 
cleanness,  as  they  came  dripping  out  of  the  warm  green 
waves.  Most  of  them  were  shy  of  the  camera,  and  fled 
with  frightened  cries ;  others,  when  begged  to  stay,  stood 
their  ground  for  a  minute,  trembling  and  laughing. 
There  was  no  lingering  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  the  bath. 
As  soon  as  all  were  out  the  colimm  formed  up  once  more 
— armed  men  as  advance  and  rear  guards,  women  in 
the  middle,  scouts  scattered  out  to  the  left.  I  walked 
along  on  the  right  for  some  way,  watching  the  demeanour 
of  the  scouts  to  the  other  side.  They  kept  a  sharp  look- 
out to  the  left,  and  carried  their  guns  on  their  shoulders, 
ready  for  immediate  use.  The  worst  of  their  enemies 
lived  over  in  that  direction,  and,  as  there  was  plenty  of 
cover,  it  was  feared  that  they  might  do  some  sharp- 
shooting,  taking  advantage  of  the  large  number  available 
for  aim.  There  was  no  firing,  however,  and  the  column 
wound  off  up  to  the  hills  in  safety. 

"Netik"  is  more  or  less  at  the  bottom  of  the  tribal 
fights  in  Tanna.  It  is,  briefly,  a  belief  in  the  power  of 
one  man  to  kill  another  by  witchcraft.  The  Tannaman 
firmly  believes  that  if  an  enemy  can  obtain  a  lock  of  his 
hair,  a  nail-paring,  a  bit  of  clothing,  a  scrap  of  half-eaten 
food  or  half- smoked  tobacco,  he  can  with  the  fragment 
make  a  spell  that  will  cause  the  death  of  the  owner. 
Further,  he  keeps  a  constant  lookout  for  oddly  shaped 


THE  COUNCIL  OF  WAR— THE  SPEAKER  FOR  WAR 


THE  COUNCIL  OF  WAR-  '  WHAl    W  A>    III  \ 


HOT  TIMES  IN  TANNA  251 

stones  of  all  kinds,  and  when  he  finds  something 
resembling  any  part  of  the  human  body,  he  secures  it  at 
once,  makes  offerings  of  food  to  it,  and  endeavours  to 
obtain  the  favour  of  the  spirits  through  it,  so  that  the 
corresponding  part  of  his  enemy  may  waste  away  through 
disease.  If  any  Tannaman,  therefore,  suffers  from  disease 
of  any  kind,  he  looks  about  for  a  man  who  may  be  sup- 
posed to  have  some  "netik"  stone  in  his  possession,  or  to 
have  obtained  something  belonging  to  the  sufferer. 
Sometimes  the  deed  is  actually  claimed  by  an  enemy 
anxious  to  obtain  credit  for  himself  or  to  alarm  others. 
Sometimes  an  innocent  person  is  fixed  on  as  the  cause. 
In  either  case,  there  is  trouble,  and  probably  murder, 
to  follow.  Every  death,  from  any  cause,  is  also  put 
down  to  "netik,"  and  demands  revenge  as  much  as  an 
open  murder.  A  continuous  vendetta  is  thus  created, 
and  fighting  is  never  quite  relinquished,  at  the  best  of 
times.  It  would  indeed  be  hard  to  say  why  it  should 
ever  cease,  under  such  circumstances. 

At  times  there  is  some  desire  for  peace  manifested, 
but  it  never  comes  to  anything.  During  my  stay  at 
Lenakil,  a  number  of  fighting  men  were  seen  one  day 
to  be  assembling  on  the  shore  below  the  house.  This 
is  rather  an  unusual  spectacle,  so  the  missionary  and 
myself  hurried  down  to  see  what  was  going  on.  It 
proved  to  be  a  council  of  war.  A  number  of  the  most 
influential  men  from  several  different  tribes  had  met 
to  discuss  the  fighting,  and  see  if  something  could  not 
be  done  toward  arranging  a  truce.  For  several  hours 
they  talked,  down  on  the  blazing  shore,  in  the  slight 
shelter  of  a  clump  of  young  palms,  the  speaker  of  the 
moment  standing,  or  pacing  up  and  down,  the  listeners 
squatting  on  the  sand.  The  missionary  joined  in  at 
times,   and  tried  to  persuade  them  to  come  to  some 


252  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

agreement,  but  they  did  not  pay  much  attention  to 
him.  As  for  myself  and  my  camera,  they  did  not 
trouble  about  either  at  all;  a  woman,  in  council  of  war 
being  obviously  a  negligible  quantity. 

One  chief — an  old  and  very  evil-looking  person — 
addressed  the  house  frequently  and  fluently  in  favour 
of  war.  Another,  who  was  young,  heavily  bearded, 
and  of  a  rather  pleasant  countenance,  spoke  in  favour 
of  peace — so  the  missionary,  who  understood  the  lan- 
guage, informed  me.  One  could  almost  have  guessed 
the  subject  of  the  discourse  unaided,  however,  from 
the  demeanour  and  features  of  the  speakers — in  one 
case,  mild  and  temperate,  in  the  other,  fierce,  eager, 
and  excited.  They  remained  on  the  beach  talking 
the  greater  part  of  the  afternoon,  and  when  they  sepa- 
rated at  last,  the  speaker  for  peace  had  evidently  been 
defeated,  and  the  advocate  of  war  had  won  the  day. 

If  the  tribes  could  be  disarmed,  and  the  sale  of 
rifles  stopped,  fighting  would  probably  cease,  for  the 
Tannaman  cannot  murder  from  ambush  with  a  club, 
and  he  has  not  much  taste  for  open  warfare.  But 
the  law  that  prohibits  the  selling  of  firearms  by  English 
traders  in  the  New  Hebrides  is  a  dead  letter,  and  the 
French  do  not  attempt  to  check  the  sale  at  all.  The 
dual  interest  in  the  group,  and  the  absence  of  definite 
ownership,  prevent  the  taking  of  any  strong  action 
on  either  side,  and  so  the  loss  of  native  life  and  injury 
to  property  goes  on  unchecked. 

No  white  man  has  been  killed  on  Tanna  for  several 
years. 

It  cannot  be  long,  however,  before  the  reckless  shoot- 
ing of  the  Tannamen  brings  about  another  case.  Not 
to  mention  any  other  instances,  myself  and  the  local 
missionary  certainly  came  near  to  furnishing  an  example 


HOT  TIMES  IN  TANNA  253 

in  the  village  of  Imale.  I  do  not  attempt  to  point 
any  moral.  There  is  no  use  in  saying  that  the  owner- 
ship of  the  islands  ought  to  be  settled  and  the  natives 
compelled  to  disarm  because,  at  the  present  showing, 
the  New  Hebrides  tangle  does  not  seem  likely  to 
imtangle  itself  before  the  trump  of  doom.  Nor  is  there 
any  sense  in  blaming  the  traders.  They  cannot  afford 
to  give  up  the  sale  of  arms  and  ammunition  singly, 
since  it  would  be  merely  casting  trade  into  the  hands 
of  the  nearest  rival,  and  depriving  themselves  of  even 
legitimate  custom.  If  the  sale  of  arms  could  be  simul- 
taneously stopped  all  over  the  islands,  most  of  the 
traders  would  be  glad,  as  their  profits  from  copra — 
which  depends  on  peaceful  times  for  its  production — 
would  at  once  go  up.  But  no  one  can  afford  to  stand 
out,  and  there  are  a  good  many  who  would  keep  no 
agreement  in  any  case.  The  problem  is  one  that  may 
best  be  left  to  those  who  are  responsible  for  its  existence. 

While  I  was  staying  at  Lenakil  I  happened  to  see 
a  particularly  impressive  sample  of  the  work  done 
in  Tanna  by  British-made  and  British-sold  bullets. 
Away  in  the  hills  a  woman  had  been  badly  shot,  not 
by  accident,  as  one  might  suppose;  men,  women,  and 
children  are  all  the  same  to  the  Tannaman  on  murder 
bent.  My  host,  the  medical  missionary  of  the  district, 
was  visiting  the  bush  villages  in  that  part,  and  decided 
to  take  the  chance  of  bringing  the  woman  down  to 
his  hospital,  as  it  was  certain  that  she  would  die  where 
she  was.  She  was  tied  on  a  stretcher,  and  carried  by 
the  natives  over  nine  miles  of  almost  pathless  mountain, 
bush,  and  gully,  afterward  journeying  twenty  miles 
in  an  open  boat.  Next  day  the  doctor  decided  to  oper- 
ate, and  when  half-way  through  his  work  sent  for  me  to 
come  in  and  see  the  case,  as  it  was  rather  singular. 


254  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

I  crossed  over  the  sunny  lawn  to  the  hospital  build- 
ing, and  entered  the  tiny  white  operating- ward.  There 
the  woman  lay  on  the  table,  her  breast  straining  audibly 
in  the  long  mechanical  heave  of  chloroformed  respira- 
tion, her  deep-lashed  eyes  shut,  her  pretty  little  hands 
hanging  limp  and  lifeless  over  the  table  edge.  She 
was  a  young,  attractive,  very  feminine-looking  creature; 
and  the  ghastly  rift  that  disfigured  her  delicate  side 
seemed  all  the  more  anomalous  and  horrible.  No  modern 
Mauser  or  Lee-Metford  bullet  could  have  inflicted  such 
a  wound;  only  a  shell  could  have  paralleled  it.  Three 
ribs  were  splintered,  and  two  of  them  driven  into  the 
lung,  wounding  it  seriously.  The  liver  had  been  rup- 
tured by  the  shock  of  the  bullet,  and  protruded  through 
the  opening,  a  ghastly,  gangrenous  mass.  She  had 
already  lived  ten  days  in  this  terrible  state,  so  there  was 
a  faint  chance  that  she  might  survive,  but  the  doctor 
had  not  very  much  hope. 

As  no  assistance  was  needed,  I  left  the  doctor  and 
his  wife  and  native  helper  to  their  work,  and  came 
out  in  the  sunshine  again,  hearing  still  the  laboured 
heave  of  the  struggling  lungs,  and  seeing  the  poor  pretty 
girl  upon  the  table,  torn  with  such  wounds  as  only  a 
soldier  should  ever  have  to  face,  and  that  for  the  safety 
of  his  country  alone.  I  thought  of  one  other  woman  up 
in  the  hills,  who  had  died  not  long  before,  after  living 
more  than  a  week  with  all  her  face  shot  away;  of  the 
many  men  going  about  with  crippled  and  shattered  limbs ; 
of  the  twenty  corpses,  some  buried,  some  eaten,  that  had 
been  living  human  creatures  only  a  few  weeks  before ;  of 
the  reign  of  terror  in  the  bush  villages,  and  the  "peril 
that  walked  in  darkness,"  night  by  night,  the  island 
through.  And  I  wished,  most  earnestly,  that  I  could 
see  the  strong  hand  of  Great  Britain  or  her  Colonies 


HOT  TIMES  IN  TANNA  255 

grasp  the  bridle  of  this  wretched  country,  as  unfit  to  be 
left  to  its  own  guidance  as  any  runaway  horse,  and 
pull  it  firmly  and  determinedly  into  the  road  of  civil- 
isation and  law-abiding  peace.  The  missionaries  have 
done  what  they  can;  but  the  hand  of  a  strong  gov- 
ernment could  do  very  much  more.  Disarmed  by 
force,  as  the  Solomons  have  been,  held  in  check 
by  able  police  and  magistrates,  like  the  Fiji  Islands, 
the  New  Hebrides  could  in  time  be  made  a  useful  and 
valuable  country,  populated  by  industrious,  peaceful 
natives.  As  things  are,  however,  there  is  little  hope. 
Australia,  to  whom  the  islands  should  rightly  look  for 
their  preservation,  will  have  none  of  them.  France — 
conspicuously  unsuccessful  with  every  Pacific  colony 
she  has  ever  owned — is  anxious  to  take  them,  rightly 
or  wrongly.  Great  Britain  will  not  let  either  have 
them,  and  will  not  take  them  herself.  So  the  tangle 
drags  on,  and  the  reign  of  terror  continues  imabated. 


CHAPTER  XV 

TANNA— ITS  SCENERY  AND  RESOURCES 

Somebody  s  Picnic — The  Simple  Life  in  Tanna — The 
Returned  Labour  Trouble — Up  the  Great  Volcano — 
The  Valley  of  Fire 

AFTER  a  stay  of  a  week  or  two  at  Lenakil,  I  rode 
over  to  Whitesands,  some  twenty  miles  away,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  island,  to  see  the  volcano.  The  track 
lay  through  the  bush  and  over  a  chain  of  hills,  and  crossed 
most  of  the  fighting  country.  I  took  a  native  guide, 
who  could  speak  a  little  English,  and  started  early 
in  the  morning.  Bush  fires,  mostly  of  malicious  origin, 
had  been  extremely  prevalent  during  the  past  few 
weeks,  and  I  was  rather  uneasy  to  see  half -burned 
trees  and  smoking  ashy  slopes  on  our  left  as  we  passed 
up  a  precipitous  gully. 

"What  shall  we  do  if  bush  fire  come  along,  Simoni?" 
I  asked,  vaguely  recollecting  "adventure"  tales  I 
had  read  long  ago,  in  which  Australian  and  American 
people,  threatened  by  fires,  had  set  fire  themselves 
to  something  or  other,  which  somehow  burned,  and 
protected  them  from  the  other  fire — I  did  not  exactly 
remember   how. 

"Not  do  nothing,"  said  Simoni  cheerfully.  "Cook 
all-a  same  pig!'' 

I  was  quite  sure  that  this  was  not  the  last  possible 
word  on  the  matter,  and  I  rather  wished  I  could  conjure 
an    Australian    out    of    the    banyan    trunks    in    front; 

257 


2  58  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

because,  according  to  the  books,  Australians  are  always 
equal  to  dealing  with  fires  and  floods,  and  runaway 
herds  of  cattle,  and  anything  else  that  may  occur  upon 
the  King's  highway  to  agitate  a  sensitive  female,  and 
cause  her  to  wish  herself  safe  inside  a  Pullman  car 
with  the  blinds  down.  It  was  true  that  all  the  Aus- 
tralians I  had  happened  to  see  in  their  native  lairs 
had  been  engaged  in  buying  and  selling  more  or  less 
"alleged"  gold-mines,  inside  a  palatial  office;  writing 
leading  articles  at  dignified  leather  desks,  or  discussing 
the  virtues  of  different  brands  of  wine,  under'  the  glow 
of  shaded  electric  lamps,  at  a  luxurious  dinner-table. 
This  did  not  shake  my  faith,  however,  because  I  knew 
that  they  were  merely  playing  at  that  kind  of  thing, 
and  that  they  all  had  gone,  or  would  go,  or  would  like 
to  go,  ranching  and  clearing  and  bush-whacking  (I 
do  not  know  the  correct  translation  of  the  latter  word, 
but  it  sounds  satisfying,  somehow),  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity. If  not,  the  books  must  be  wrong,  which  is 
absurd,  because  nothing  British  is  ever  wrong;  and 
therefore,  if  an  Australian — any  Australian — had  dropped 
from  heaven  at  that  moment,  he  would,  like  "Epps's 
cocoa,"  have  been  extremely  grateful  and  comforting. 
Q.  E.  D. 

As  it  turned  out,  there  were  no  more  bush  fires,  and 
I  forgot  all  about  them  in  half  an  hour,  since  it  became 
necessary  to  take  my  horse  out  for  a  walk  on  a  string, 
like  a  pet  spaniel,  every  now  and  then,  for  half  an  hour 
or  so,  during  which  time  I  scrambled  like  a  cockroach 
(only  without  its  invaluable  complement  of  extra  legs) 
up  and  down  places  that  were  never  meant  for  the  passage 
of  anything  unprovided  with  wings.  On  a  fine  windy 
tableland,  some  800  feet  high,  we  came  to  a  halt  at  last, 
and  Simoni  got  out  the  lunch  sack,  and  there  was  billy. 


TAXNESE  GIRL  CLIMBING  A  COCOANUT  PALM 


TANNA— SCENERY  AND  RESOURCES       259 

tea,  and  bread  and  sardines  thereto,  and  much  refresh- 
ment. There  was  a  magnificent  view  from  this  point — • 
almost  all  of  Tanna  lying  like  a  bright-green  map  under 
our  feet,  with  the  great  volcano  standing  up  by  itself 
in  the  middle  of  a  gray  level  plain,  and  the  islands  of 
Aniwa  and  Erromanga  floating  on  the  blue  horizon,  far 
away.  And  there  was  a  pleasant  little  grove  of  trees  to 
break  the  force  of  the  beating  sun,  and  more  than  one 
soft  bank  of  bullock-grass  to  sit  on,  and  rest.  ...  A 
very  pleasant  place  for  lunch,  it  semed  to  me. 

I  did  not  kno-w.     .     .     .  but  that  comes  by-and-by. 

More  cockroach  scrambling,  down  outrageous  heights, 
with  the  horse  doing  the  chute  business  behind  me  as 
if  he  had  been  brought  up  in  a  circus;  more  glaring 
sun;  more  choking,  drought-bred  dust  rising  in  clouds — 
and  now,  half-way  down  to  the  plain,  a  sudden  sound 
arrests  me.  It  is  rather  like  thunder,  but  it  is  not 
thunder;  it  suggests  an  earthquake,  but  the  palm-tree 
plumes  are  steady  against  the  burning  sky.  It  is,  perhaps, 
most  of  all  like  the  low,  threatening  growl  of  a  vicious  dog, 
magnified  a  million  times ;  but  it  does  not  really  resemble 
any  sound  I  have  ever  heard  before  in  my  life. 

Simoni  points  triumphantly  to  the  smoking  cone 
some  eight  miles  away. 

"That  the  fire  place;  hear  um  sing  out!"  he  says. 
"By-n-by,  hear  um  plenty  smell!" 

We  are  just  beginning  to  "hear  um  smell,"  a  mile 
or  two  further  on,  upon  a  windy  plain  distinctly  per- 
fumed with  sulphurous  odours,  when  Simoni — suddenly 
overcome  by  reminiscences  that,  like  the  flowers  of 
spring,  "have  nothing  do  do  with  the  case  ' — ^bursts 
out  laughing. 

"You  savvy  that-fellow  place  you  eat  'um  dinner?" 
he  asks  chucklingly. 


26o  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

"Yes;  what  about  it?" 

"All  same  place,  Tannaman  he  eat  woman,  leg  you 
got  in  one-fellow  box;  two,  three,  four  week!"  Simoni 
cackles  explosively. 

This  requires  explanation.  Some  little  while  before 
a  native  woman  had  been  eaten  by  the  tribes  above 
Lenakil,  and  the  missionary,  I  do  not  know  how,  had 
obtained  possession  of  some  of  the  relics  of  the  victim. 
He  had  given  me  a  thigh-bone,  which  I  wanted  to  keep 
as  a  memento  of  Tanna — rather  a  ghastly  souvenir,  it 
must  be  confessed — and  this  bone  I  had  packed  away  in 
my  box.  Simoni  knew  all  about  it,  and  had  prepared 
the  little  surprise  about  the  picnic-ground  as  a  good 
joke.  .  .  .  Now  I  came  to  think  of  it,  it  was  certainly 
he  who  selected  the  stopping-place.  ...  A  nice  spot 
for  a  picnic,  truly. 

There  were  very  few  natives  about  here,  and  those 
we  met  seemed  to  be  exceedingly  alarmed,  I  really  do 
not  know  why,  unless  it  was  at  the  horse,  since  they  are 
still  very  unfamiliar  with  horses  in  Tanna.  One  or  two 
ran  howling  up  the  nearest  palm-tree  when  they  saw  me, 
and  continued  to  climb,  looking  down  and  howling  cease- 
lessly, until  I  was  well  out  of  the  way.  It  was  evident 
that  they  were  not  at  all  sure  I  could  not,  and  would  not, 
ride  up  after  them! 

After  the  field  of  the  cannibal  feast  was  left  behind, 
and  the  view  of  the  volcano  had  disappeared  in  a  jumble 
of  trees,  we  went  on  and  on  for  a  good  many  miles  through 
a  pleasant  up-and-down  valley,  the  path  a  mere  crack 
in  the  thickness  of  the  bush  as  a  rule,  but  now  and  then 
showing  the  loveliest  glimpses  of  distant  green — ^blue- 
green,  smoke-green,  gold-green — always  green,  and  always 
foliage,  tight-packed  as  a  pin-cushion.  There  seemed 
to  be  nothing  left  on  earth  but  tree-trunks  and  tree-tops. 


TANNA— SCENERY  AND  RESOURCES      261 

The  ravaging  hand  of  the  utilitarian  white  man  has  not 
so  much  as  scratched  Tanna  as  yet.  If  you  want  to  go 
to  any  place  where  the  natives  do  not  naturally  go,  yott 
will  have  to  do  it  as  Stanley  did  the  forests  of  Central 
Africa — ^with  an  axe  and  unlimited  patience,  at  a  couple 
of  miles  a  day — and  your  road  will  close  up  behind  you 
almost  as  fast  as  you  make  it. 

It  was  hot,  with  the  soaking,  head-hammering  heat 
of  the  New  Hebrides  in  December;  but  there  were  cer- 
tain alleviations  on  the  way.  Not  to  speak  of  the  price- 
less green  cocoanut,  heaven's  best  gift  to  travellers  in  the 
tropics,  there  were  rose-apples  in  rare  places,  all  waxy- 
pink  without  and  waxy-white  within,  and  delicately 
flavoured  with  otto-of-rose.  And  here  were  fat  sticky 
little  figs,  and  great  yellow  clusters  of  tree-melons, 
miscalled  mummy-apples,  and  somebody's  pine-apples 
— he  will  never  miss  what  I  stole — and  odd,  nameless 
orange-coloured  capsules,  enclosing  sweet  red  seeds.  I 
stopped  to  levy  tribute  as  we  went  along,  because,  if 
one  has  got  to  work  between  meals  (an  unwholesome 
habit  at  best),  it  is  as  well  to  make  the  meals  as  many 
as  possible. 

It  was  a  journey  to  break  the  heart  of  any  one  con- 
nected with  the  copra  trade.  I  wished  that  I  had  had 
someone  from  a  soap-making  firm  with  me,  to  enjoy 
his  agonies  at  the  sight  of  the  wasted  shiploads  that 
cumbered  the  ground  in  every  direction.  This  part  of 
Tanna  is  a  veritable  gold-mine  of  copra.  For  miles 
and  miles  of  untouched  forest  the  cocoanuts  spread  their 
rustling  fans  to  the  hot  sky;  the  pillared  trunks  stand 
thick  as  cornstalks  in  a  field;  the  huge  brown  nuts  lie 
scattered  in  rotting  heaps,  sending  out  feeble  little  shoots 
that  are  certain  to  die  ere  long  for  want  of  air  and  sun. 

Where  the  well-worn  bush  tracks  cut  through  the 


262  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

forest  the  Tannaman  sometimes  bestirs  himself  so  far 
as  to  collect  a  few  nuts  from  the  edges  of  the  path,  and 
split  and  dry  them,  so  that  he  may  be  able  to  buy  tobacco 
from  the  trader,  and  a  knife,  and  beads  for  his  women, 
and  a  leather  belt  and  pouch,  and  huge  blunt-nosed 
cartridges  for  the  old  Tower  rifle  that  he  uses  to  settle 
his  disputes  with  the  next-door  neighbour.  But  any- 
thing more  than  this  he  will  not  trouble  to  do.  What 
is  it  to  him  that  the  earth  for  miles  is  rotten  with  white 
nut-meat  that  could  be  transmuted  into  every  luxury 
of  civilisation?  He  does  not  want  clothes — ^he  informs 
the  inquiring  traveller,  with  beautiful  candour,  that 
there  is  nothing  wrong  or  deformed  about  him,  to  be 
covered  up,  and  that  he  would  die  with  shame  to  be  seen 
in  a  shirt  or  a  sulu !  He  has  no  wish  for  a  wooden  house 
with  a  tin  roof,  when  he  can  exist  happily  in  a  pig-pen 
that  consists  simply  of  a  roof  and  nothing  else.  Why 
(he  asks)  bother  with  walls  and  posts  when  you  can  lay 
your  roof  right  on  Mother  Earth,  and  thereby  reduce  all 
the  problems  of  housing  to  one  simple  common  denomina- 
tor (or  words  to  that  effect)  ?  Tinned  meat  and  "  samani" 
are  good,  but  they  may  be  too  dearly  bought,  and,  besides, 
in  Tanna  there  are  occasional  "excellent  substitutes 
for  the  more  expensive  article,"  of  which  the  coy  bush- 
man  does  not  care  to  discourse.  No,  on  the  whole,  the 
Tannaman  prefers  to  leave  his  "magnificent,  natural 
resources"  undeveloped,  and  thank  you  kindly,  sir. 

He  will  not  let  you  take  a  hand  in  the  business  either. 
He  has  grown  suspicious  of  white  men  and  their  motives 
of  late  years,  and  although  the  letting  of  his  land  may 
be  all  for  his  good,  "Tommy  Tanna"  says,  in  effect,  that 
he  does  not  care  a  bad  word  about  his  good,  and  will  be 
obliged  to  you  to  keep  your  fingers  out  of  his  cocoanut 
pie,  and  return  to  the  arms  of  the  steamer  company,  for 


TANN A— SCENERY  AND  RESOURCES         263 

he  does  not  want  you,  or  the  Hke  of  you,  to  play  in  his 
backyard.  ...  So  the  copra  country  goes  to  waste 
and  the  very  few  traders  who  still  maintain  a  footing  in 
Tanna  do  not  find  that  the  seams  of  their  garments  need 
frequent  letting  out.  And  the  Tannaman  shoots  his 
neighbour  frequently,  and  eats  of  him  frugally  now  and 
then ;  and  under  his  dirty  roof -tree  lives  the  "  simple  life  " 
with  his  simple  pigs  and  wives  undisturbed. 

Everything  comes  to  an  end,  even  a  bush  ride,  with 
walking  obligato  (which  means  walking  when  you  are 
obliged)  across  Tanna;  and  at  last,  having  ridden  "from 
sea  to  sea,"  I  and  my  guide  (it  is  not  grammar,  but  racial 
pride  is  above  grammar  any  day — and  the  guide  was 
black)  arrived  at  the  hospitable  mission  station  in 
Whitesands  Bay,  where  I  had  been  asked  to  stay  a  week 
or  two. 

Mission  stations,  in  the  New  Hebrides,  occupy  much 
the  same  position  as  the  monastery  of  the  Middle  Ages 
did  in  England.  They  are  almost  the  only  centres  of 
light  and  learning  in  the  midst  of  surrounding  darkness; 
the  inhabitants  act  as  guides  and  governors  to  all  the 
neighbourhood,  and  their  hospitality  is  the  traveller's 
only  refuge  from  camping  with  the  land-crabs  and  mos- 
quitoes on  the  "coral  strand." 

Like  the  ancient  monastery,  also,  they  are  very  com- 
fortable places  indeed,  full  of  good  cheer  and  simple 
luxury,  and  the  traveller  who  experiences  their  generous 
hospitality  may  be  very  sure  that  he  will  be  well  treated. 
There  will  be  a  big,  cool  house,  with  a  good  veranda  and 
handsome  imported  furniture;  there  will  be  a  flock  of 
goats,  a  sheep  or  two,  to  provide  milk  and  meat;  there 
will  be  another  flock  of  servants,  black  but  willing; 
horses,  boats,  shower-baths,  pretty  drawing-rooms,  bright 
flower  gardens — all  in  the  midst  of  a  wilderness  of  savages 


264  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

and  cannibals,  and  dirty,  miserable  native  villages. 
Truly,  an  oasis  in  the  desert  is  a  New  Hebridean  mission- 
house. 

Sulphur  Bay  was  peaceful  enough  while  I  was  there, 
but  so  much  could  hardly  be  said  for  the  mountain 
interior.  Only  a  few  days  after  my  arrival  the  word 
went  forth  from  the  chiefs  of  the  hill  country  that  they 
did  not  choose  the  white  man  should  cross  the  island, 
and  that  the  path  I  had  lately  come  by  was  to  be  closed 
by  a  "taboo."  It  was  also  reported  that  bullets  had 
been  flying  on  the  said  path,  and  that  a  native  had  nearly 
been  hit. 

My  missionary  host  thereupon  arose,  and  said  that 
such  things  could  not  be  tolerated,  and  that  he  would 
go  up  into  the  hills  and  see  about  it.  I  petitioned  to  go 
too,  and  was  allowed.  We  started  off  in  the  early  morn- 
ing afoot,  as  the  tracks  were  too  bad  for  a  horse.  We 
tramped  thirteen  miles,  with  perhaps  half  a  mile  of  level 
ground  in  the  lot,  and  had  intended  to  tramp  almost 
as  much  more,  only  that  the  chiefs  happened  to  be  down 
from  their  towns  that  day,  and  information  was  to  be 
had  more  cheaply  by  questioning  one  of  them  on  the 
spot. 

It  was  not  very  satisfactory.  We  were  told  that 
the  proclamation  was  really  a  mistake — that  no  one 
wanted  to  do  anyone  any  harm,  and  that  nothing  had 
happened.  Questioned  further,  the  men  of  the  moun- 
tain allowed  that  they  didn't  want  a  certain  tribe  to  use 
that  path,  because  the  said  tribe  was  at  war  with  them- 
selves. They  might  have  said  something — there  might 
have  been  a  bullet  or  so — ^but  there  was  no  harm 
meant.  ...  It  seemed  a  hollow  explanation;  but 
it  was  all  we  could  get. 

To  my  mind  it  was  suggestive,   and  not  pleasantly 


TANN A— SCENERY  AND  RESOURCES       265 

so.  Tanna  is  getting  out  of  hand;  straws  show  the 
way  the  wind  is  beginning  to  blow  in  more  than  one 
quarter.  The  bush  tribes  are  absolutely  reckless  as 
to  the  destruction  of  white  men's  property  when  they 
start  out  to  burn  each  other's  gardens  or  villages — 
with  the  consequences  that  I  mentioned  earlier.  They 
are  also  quite  careless  as  to  any  danger  that  may  result 
to  white  people  from  their  very  free  shooting.  It  is 
only  the  small  number  of  the  whites  in  Tanna  that 
have,  so  far,  prevented  the  occurrence  of  any  accident 
from  this  cause.  Bush  tribes  who  are  at  war  will 
carry  on  their  little  disputes,  Tanna  fashion,  by  means 
of  separate  murders,  right  round  the  mission-houses 
and  trading-stations,  so  that  one  never  knows,  when 
staying  in  the  island,  whether  a  stray  shot  that  sounds 
through  the  cool  sunset  air,  as  one  sits  drinking  after- 
dinner  coffee  on  the  veranda,  means  a  flying-fox  justly 
executed  for  orange-stealing  or  a  murdered  human 
being. 

"Tommy  Tanna,"  furthermore,  as  he  comes  home 
from  Queensland,  makes  more  and  more  trouble  in 
the  island.  The  Queensland  Tannaman  is  notoriously 
the  worst  sort  in  Tanna,  always  at  the  head  of  tribal 
fights,  usually  among  those  most  strongly  opposed  to 
the  mission,  and  generally  disposed  to  make  as  much 
trouble  as  possible.  The  reason  is  simple  enough. 
He  has  been  years  away,  his  land  is  overgrown,  his 
painfully  amassed  pigs  are  eaten,  his  house  is  a  ruin, 
his  yam  plantations  desolate — if,  indeed,  some  greedy 
neighbour  has  not  actually  annexed  all  his  property. 
The  money  he  brought  from  Queensland  is  squandered 
in  a  day,  native  fashion,  and  the  Tannaman  becomes 
a  poverty-stricken  wanderer,  full  of  restlessness  and 
discontent,  and  finding  no  outlet  save  that  of  making 


266  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

trouble.  Therefore  he  makes  it,  industriously,  as  a 
profession  and  a  sport  at  the  same  time;  and  the 
island,  in  consequence,  seethes  with  discontent  and 
disquiet. 

With  Tommy  Tanna  of  Queensland — full  of  civilisa- 
tion's vices,  sharper  and  more  knowing  than  his  fellows, 
yet  a  savage  to  the  tips  of  his  fingers — ^joins  in  the 
conservative  party  of  the  island,  the  older  chiefs,  who 
hate  the  white  man  and  all  his  doings,  and  the  younger 
and  more  savage  savages,  who  are  beginning  to  take 
alarm  at  the  increasing  power  of  the  missions.  For 
two  generations  the  missionaries  did  almost  nothing 
in  Tanna.  Now  their  work  is  beginning  to  take  effect 
and  converts  are  coming  in.  This  is  alarming  and 
angering  the  opposition;  and,  backed  up  by  the  Queens- 
lander  Tannese,  they  are  beginning  to  talk  in  an  unpleas- 
antly significant  way.  The  Queensland  labourer  has, 
after  all,  learned  something  during  his  foreign  travels; 
and  the  cry  that  he  is  now  spreading  about  the  island 
is:    "Tanna  for  the  Tannese!" 

"  If  the  white  man  won't  have  us  in  his  country 
we  won't  have  him  in  ours,"  declare  the  Tannamen. 
And  they  are  not  talking  idly. 

There  is  but  a  handful  of  whites  in  Tanna — not 
much  more  than  a  dozen  all  told.  It  is  hard  for  the 
Tannamen  to  believe  that  these  few  white  men  and 
women  have  the  power  of  a  great  Empire  at  their  back, 
especially  as  no  reason  has  been  given  them  of  late 
years  to  realise  this  fact.  The  late  punitive  expedition 
to  Malekula  created  a  smaller  effect  in  Tanna  than  in 
any  other  part  of  the  New  Hebridean  group,  for  Tanna 
lies  far  south,  and  its  inhabitants  are  a  different  folk 
altogether  to  the  Malekulans — ^braver,  bigger,  more 
warlike,    and   decidedly    more    intelligent.      They    will 


TANNA— SCENERY  AND  RESOURCES      267 

make  a  fine  people  when  they  are  tamed.  But  at 
present,  the  taming  seems  rather  the  other  way 
round. 

Tanna's  great  volcano,  famous  as  it  is,  has  been  very 
seldom  visited.  The  Sydney  boat  touches  at  Sulphur 
Bay,  or  near  it,  twice  every  month,  going  and  coming; 
but  tourists  are  rare  birds  in  the  islands,  and  even  when 
one  or  two  do  venture  to  brave  the  fevers  and  the  can- 
nibals (neither  of  which  are  nearly  so  black  as  painted), 
there  is  very  seldom  time  for  an  ascent  of  the  cone. 

Besides,  when  there  is  time,  the  tourist  is  quite 
sure  that  he  will  be  shot  or  eaten,  or  both,  if  he  ventures 
into  the  interior.  There  is  always  an  ugly  report 
of  murders  (native)  ready  for  every  steamer,  and  the 
inhabitants  of  the  island,  coming  down  on  the  beach 
in  warpaint,  feathers,  and  full  armament  of  rifle,  car- 
tridges, and  bow  and  arrows,  do  not  tend  to  allay  any 
nervousness  that  the  traveller  may  feel.  So  there  are 
very  few  excursions  up  Tanna's  fiery  cone;  except  for 
those  indulged  in  by  the  men-of-war  officers,  who  usually 
"do"  the  volcano  as  a  duty  if  their  ship  happens  to  cast 
anchor  in  the  neighbourhood. 

Things,  however,  are  not  exactly  what  they  seem 
in  Tanna.  If  they  had  been,  one  may  be  sure  my 
kindly  hosts  of  the  mission  would  not  have  despatched 
me  alone  with  a  couple  of  pigeon-English-speaking 
native  guides  to  ascend  the  mountain,  and  see  what 
was  to  be  seen.  As  to  the  cone  of  the  volcano  itself, 
one  might  safely  assure  the  most  nervous  old  lady 
who  ever  screamed  at  a  mouse,  that  not  a  single  heathen 
Tannaman  wovild  venture  to  set  foot  on  the  spot.  The 
Tannese  have  a  deadly  horror  of  the  place,  and  only  a 
civilised  mission  native  will  venture  to  approach  it. 


268  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

The  climb  is  not  a  long  one.  I  was  not  able  to 
ascertain  the  exact  height  of  the  mountain,  but  it  is 
generally  supposed  to  be  just  under  2,000  feet,  and  this 
certainly  seemed  about  correct.  My  "boys"  and  I 
started  from  the  mission  late  in  the  afternoon,  as  I 
wanted  to  see  the  crater  after  dusk.  I  took  things 
easily,  and  found  that  one  could  reach  the  mountain 
and  get  to  the  top  in  an  hour  and  a  half  without  much 
exertion. 

We  walked  along  the  usual  foot-wide  bush  track 
for  a  mile  or  two,  passing  through  a  couple  of  "mission" 
villages,  where  the  people  were  clothed  in  bright  pink 
and  scarlet  cottons,  and  had  fairly  decent  houses;  and 
meeting  on  the  way  an  occasional  wild  "bushie,"  dressed 
in  nothing  at  all,  or  in  a  sort  of  upholstery  fringe  of 
dried  grass,  according  to  sex.  The  women  sometimes 
carried  a  pet  pig,  a  tiny  squeaker  no  larger  than  a  cat, 
which  they  seemed  extremely  attached  to,  as  a  rule,  and 
conveyed  about  under  one  arm,  for  all  the  world  like 
a  fashionable  lady's  lap-dog. 

The  boys,  of  course,  kept  up  the  maddening  native 
pace  that  looks  so  slow  and  easy,  and  in  reality  is  so 
hard  to  follow — a  relentless,  long,  elastic,  wolf-like 
stride,  that  never  slacks  or  alters  up  hill  or  down,  that 
comes  of  an  ancestry  unhampered  by  clothing,  and 
a  life  spent  afoot  on  rough,  hilly  tracks,  and  that  is 
bound  to  wear  out  anyone  but  a  very  strong  white 
man  in  excellent  training,  if  one  gives  in  to  its  apparent 
slowness  and  struggles  to  keep  up.  I  did  not,  having 
long  since  learned  that  pride  of  this  kind  may  be  too 
dearly  bought  in  a  feverish,  tropical  climate.  I  simply 
screamed  at  them  to  go  slow,  and  kept  on  screaming 
at  appropriate  intervals,  until  I  reduced  them  to  my 
moderate  three  miles  an  hour,   and  made  them  stay 


TANN A— SCENERY  AND  RESOURCES      269 

there.  Other  travellers  may  find  the  hint  useful. 
The  tangled  bush-palm  and  pandanus  matted  together 
at  the  roots  with  purple-flowered  shrubs  and  trailing 
pink  convolvulus,  and  linked  aloft  by  closely  knitted 
lianas,  thinned  out  by-and-by,  and  began  to  display 
a  flooring  of  fine  black  sand.  Then  the  trees  ended 
abruptly,  and  we  were  out  on  a  barren,  desolate  plain, 
painted  crimson,  buff,  and  yellow,  curdled  and  coiled 
like  the  scum  on  boiling  milk,  and  looking  as  hot  and 
molten  as  though  the  wicked  black  cone  in  the  centre 
had  onl}^  this  morning  cast  it  forth.  Yet  these  lava 
beds  were  old  and  time-worn,  and  where  they  did  not 
clink  like  metal  under  foot,  were  half  crumbled  into 
rottenness.  It  is  a  long,  long  time — no  one  knows 
just  when,  since  the  volcano  erupted  seriously,  though 
small  outbursts  are  of  constant  occurrence.  Still,  it 
is  by  no  means  a  force  to  be  despised.  The  mission- 
house,  several  miles  away,  is  often  shaken  by  small 
earthquakes  that  throw  down  the  furniture  and  break 
the  china ;  and  even  when  the  mountain  is  at  its  quietest, 
in  periods  of  long  drought  (the  connection  is  not  under- 
stood, but  drought  generally  means  reduced  activity), 
the  throb  arid  grumble  of  its  crater  can  be  felt  over  almost 
all  the  island. 

After  the  lava  beds  are  crossed,  a  plain  of  black 
sand,  level  as  a  lake,  lies  before  us,  and  right  in  the 
centre,  sinister  and  threatening,  and  grim,  towers  the 
800-feet-high  cone.  A  heavy  cloud  of  smoke  hides 
the  apex;  from  rents  and  fissures  in  the  steep,  black 
sides  rush  jets  of  sulphurous  steam.  It  is  steep,  but 
the  climb  seems  short  and  easy,  looking  across  the 
plain — one  would  imagine  that  ten  minutes  should 
place  the  climber  on  the  invisible  crest. 

Alas!    I  have  climbed  volcanoes  before,  and  I  know 


270  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

those  delusive  cones.  In  ten  minutes  the  men  and 
myself  are  slipping,  slithering,  straining,  and  scrambling 
mid-leg  deep  in  black  ash,  just  on  the  beginning  of  the 
rise.  Every  step  is  half  lost  before  it  is  well  gained; 
we  dig  o\ir  fingers  into  the  tepid  ashes,  and  clutch  at 
lumps  of  slag  sticking  out  above  our  heads;  find  them 
give  way,  and  narrowly  escape  rolling  down  into  sul- 
phurous, steaming  cracks  that  will  certainly  show 
red-hot  after  dusk.  In  twenty  minutes  we  are  only 
about  half-way  up,  but  the  worst  is  over,  and  our  toes 
are  no  longer  turned  upward  at  an  acute  angle  to  our 
shins.  We  can  see  a  valley  on  the  other  side  of  the 
cone  now — a  demoniac  little  place,  full  of  sulphurous 
smoke-holes  and  ugly  cracks;  not  the  sort  of  spot  in 
which  to  take  a  walk  for  pleasure.  There  will  be  a 
big  outbreak  there  some  of  these  days. 

Up,  still  up!  and  now  the  sky-line  in  front  of  us  is 
sharp  and  near,  and  darkly  outlined  against  a  livid 
cloud  of  smoke.  We  are  almost  there.  One  of  the 
men  has  been  here  before;  the  other  has  not,  but  we 
are  all  equally  eager,  and  we  fairly  run  the  last  few 
steps  of  the  rise,  up  to  the  very  verge  of  the  pit,  where 
we  stand  flapping  and  shaking  in  a  tearing  wind,  high 
above  the  blue  sea  and  the  circled  green  horizon,  right 
on  the  volcano's  fiery  brink. 

It  is  just  a  little  disappointing  at  first.  One  had 
expected  a  sea  of  fire,  a  welter  of  flame — though  warned 
beforehand  that  the  mountain  was  sulking,  and  not 
at  its  best — and  here,  when  the  stifling  sulphur-gusts 
roll  far  enough  to  leeward  to  show  the  interior,  is  but 
a  great  black  pit,  with  a  red  crack  across  the  middle, 
and  a  red  fire-fountain  jetting  up  drops  of  blood  away 
in  the  bottom.     And  after  all,  is  it  so  very  large? 

But  suddenly,  without  any  warning,  as  I  stand  on 


TANNA-SCENERY  AND  RESOURCES       271 

the  edge  looking  over,  and  feeling  rather  giddy,  without 
understanding  why  the  scale  of  the  place  bursts  upon 
me.  I  realise  what  I  am  looking  at.  The  sky-line 
of  the  crater  shuts  out  so  much  of  the  surrounding 
world  that  there  is  nothing  to  compare  with — ^but 
somehow  the  "values"  explain  themselves  all  in  a 
second,  and  the  crater  expands  like  a  bursting  red 
flower,  while  I,  deprived  of  my  lawful  sixty-nine  inches 
and  comfortable  self-complacency,  stand  like  a  wretched 
little  insect,  a  speck  that  does  not  count,  on  the  verge 
of  utter  immensity.  ...  It  was  merely  my  eyes, 
accustomed  to  things  of  moderate  size,  that  were  in 
fault,  not  the  crater.  Eight  hundred  feet  is  the  drop 
from  where  I  am  standing  to  the  sulphurous  gorges 
and  canyons  beneath;  half  a  mile  at  the  least  is  the 
distance  from  lip  to  lip  of  the  great  black  cup.  And 
as  for  the  powers  that  sleep  below.  ...  I  did  not 
mean  to  do  it.  I  thought  I  had  developed  some  nerve 
during  the  course  of  some  months'  solitary  wanderings 
about  the  wild  New  Hebrides.  I  thought  I  could 
face  a  noise  without  losing  head  and  presence  of  mind. 
But  the  fire-fountain  jumped  a  hundred  feet  higher 
into  the  air,  and  the  crater,  like  a  wild  and  wicked 
brute  when  you  put  your  head  into  its  den,  suddenly 
bellowed  right  into  my  face  with  the  voice  of  a  dozen 
tropic  thunderstorms  and  a  thousand  angry  bulls, 
coupled  to  something  that  was  entirely  volcanic  and 
indescribable — something  that  turned  one's  spine  to 
an  ill-set  jelly,  and  made  one  mysteriously  understand 
the  motions  of  the  star-fish  that  jerks  off  its  arms  and 
legs  when  suddenly  terrified.  I  wanted  to  jerk  off 
mine,  but  instead,  I  found  myself  running  down  the 
side  of  the  cone  hand-in-hand  with  two  extremely 
frightened  niggers,   without   an   idea  as  to  how   I   got 


272  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

there,  or  where  I  was  going.  It  was  not  courage,  for 
I  had  none  left,  but  pride  of  race,  that  stopped  me 
half  a  dozen  yards  below  the  crater  lip.  White  people 
must  not  be  frightened  before  blacks.  So  I  went  back 
and  sat  on  the  edge  again — ^because  the  rush  of  hot  wind 
from  below,  and  the  extreme  straightness  of  the  800- 
feet-drop,  inclined  one  to  giddiness — and  looked  down 
again.  By-and-by  it  bellowed  a  second  time,  and  the 
very  heavens  shook,  while  the  caky  crumbled  edge 
I  sat  on  trembled  heart-shakingly.  But  I  wanted 
to  see  this  time,  so  I  looked  down,  still  feeling  very 
much  like  the  star-fish,  without  its  happy  means  of 
relief. 

It  was  all  over  in  a  few  seconds.  The  fire-fountain 
rose  half-way  up  the  crater  sides,  and  tossed  a  few  glow- 
ing lumps  of  lava  into  the  air.  They  did  not  reach  within 
a  hundred  feet  of  the  rim,  but  it  was  rather  anxious 
work,  seeing  how  far  they  meant  to  go.  The  red  crack 
glowed  scarlet;  and  from  the  dark  wolf -mouth  away 
down  at  the  bottom  of  all  things,  burst  once  and  again 
that  terrifying  bellow.  It  was  impossible  not  to  feel 
that  there  was  something  alive — alive  and  powerful  and 
infinitely  wicked — about  the  place.  It  was  impossible 
not  to  read  anger  and  menace  in  the  tones  of  that  awful 
thunder- voice.     It  was  the  voice  of  Nature  herself — 

but 

"Nature  red  in  tooth  and  claw 
With  ravine." 

Nature,  pitiless,  avenging  and  cruel.  The  Nature 
of  floods  and  earthquakes,  hurricanes,  simoons  and 
fire.  The  Nature  that  sweeps  man  relentlessly  from 
her  path  in  her  anger,  and  blots  out  a  countryside  ot 
crawling  human  folk  in  a  single  hour.  If  any  man 
says  that  he  can  look  down  the  throat  of  such  a  devil's 


TANNA— SCENERY  AND  RESOURCES      273 

pit  as  this  without  emotion,  and  hear  it  speak  without 
fear,  I  think  that  man  must  He. 

For  more  than  an  hour  I  stayed  on  the  summit, 
watching  the  crater  with  a  fascinated  fear  that  seemed 
to  expunge  both  time  and  fatigue.  As  the  sun  went 
down  in  the  glassy  blue  sea,  and  the  sky  began  to  darken, 
the  whole  of  the  great  pit  was  slowly  lit  up  from  below 
as  by  some  infernal  illumination.  The  gray  plateaux  of 
lava  turned  pink,  and  became  spotted  with  holes  of  fire. 
The  huge  canyon  darted  flames  invisible  in  the  daylight; 
the  fire-fountain  glowed  like  molten  brass.  And  every 
now  and  then,  as  if  the  current  of  the  light  were  being 
turned  on  below  by  a  giant  hand,  the  whole  crater  slowly 
brightened  and  glowed,  and  the  canopy  of  dull-red  vapour 
hanging  above  it  grew  scarlet.  At  such  times,  from  the 
other  side  (an  untenable  position,  by  reason  of  the 
choking  sulphur  smoke),  there  must  have  been  a  mar- 
vellous view  of  a  fiery  valley,  of  which  I  could  only  see 
the  overhanging  tableland.  ...  I  never  longed  for 
anything  so  much  as  I  longed  to  see  into  that  invisible 
and  unattainable  gorge  of  flame. 

And  over  all,  above  the  jettings  of  the  fire-fountain  and 
the  booming  of  the  crater-throat,  rose,  silent,  still,  and 
pure,  the  dark-blue  heaven  and  the  eternal  stars.  .  .  . 
If  one  could  write  the  thoughts  that  come  in  such  hours 
and  places,  one  would  ''speak  with  the  tongues  of  men 
and  angels,"  and  say  that  which  cannot  be  said.  But 
through  the  iron  bars  of  human  speech,  the  human 
soul  can  look  forth  but  a  very  little  way. 

The  wind  on  the  summit  was  bitter  cold,  but  the 
cinders  of  the  cone  on  which  we  stood  were  so  warm 
that  the  hand  could  not  bear  the  heat  five  or  six  inches 
below  the  surface. 

It  would  have  been  quite  possible  for  me  to  find  a 


2  74  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

spot  in  the  lee  of  a  hillock,  scratch  out  a  very  warm 
nest  among  the  ashes,  and  spend  the  night  there,  and 
see  the  sun  rise,  sending  the  men  on  to  explain  my 
absence.  But  ...  we  had  eaten  all  our  food,  and 
there  was  no  water  left.  And  one  gets  desperately 
thirsty  watching  a  sulphurous  crater  in  full  blast.  And 
the  thought  of  the  lemons  and  cool  tank-water  down 
at  the  mission  proved  too  much,  so  I  went  down  without 
spending  the  night,  and  regretted  it  long  after. 

The  touch  of  comedy  that  always  follows  close  on 
the  heels  of  tragedy  in  "the  islands"  was  not  wanting 
here.  When  the  two  Tannese  guides  had  finished 
running  away  (which  they  did  at  every  explosion, 
until  they  were  tired  out),  and,  clinging  close  together, 
had  ventured  to  look  down  into  the  crater,  I  listened 
with  considerable  interest  to  hear  what  form  the 
untutored  savages'  expression  would  take  at  the  sight  of 
this  most  colossal  of  Nature's  wonders. 

One  untutored  savage  looked  down  at  the  fiery 
valley  below,  and  then  drew  back,  remarking  calmly 
"All  same  calico!"  (It  is  necessary  to  explain  that 
the  Tannaman  always  buys  red  cotton.)  The  other 
rose  more  fully  to  the  occasion.  He  looked  over  like- 
wise, drew  back,  and  remarked  very  gravely:  "All 
same  hell!" 

A  few  nights  afterward,  lying  off  the  island  in  the 
Malaita,  I  could  see  the  crimson  cloud  hovering  high 
above  the  black  cone,  blotting  out  half  the  crystal 
stars.  Every  now  and  then,  as  before,  the  crimson 
brightened  into  pure  red  gold,  and  then  faded  again. 
And  from  time  to  time,  the  cloud-cap  trembled  and 
the  hollow  arch  of  midnight  sky  resounded  with  the 
booming  roar  of  the  great  volcano's  voice.  So  Captain 
Cook  found  this  southward  sentinel  of  the  New  Hebrides, 


'.USHMEN  COxMING  To  SF.H  A  WHriE  CHILD 


FASHlU.NS  J.N   LKKtJ.MA.NGA 


TANN A— SCENERY  AND  RESOURCES      275 

more  than  a  hundred  years  ago.  So  we  found  it,  and 
left  it,  eternal  and  unchanged,  and  sailed  southward 
with  the  dawn,  away  from  the  islands. 

About  Erromanga,  the  "Martyr  Isle,"  there  are  a 
good  many  misconceptions.  The  murders  of  five  of 
the  early  missionaries  on  this  island,  including  the 
celebrated  John  Williams,  have  fixed  an  idea  in  the 
public  mind  that  Erromanga  is  the  home  of  fierce  sav- 
ages, and  almost  uncivilised.  On  the  contrary,  it  now 
shares  with  Aneityimi  the  honour  of  being  the  most 
completely  civilised  and  Christianised  island  in  the 
group.  The  last  murder  took  place  thirty-four  years 
ago ;  and  the  islanders  are  now  as  peaceable  and  amiable 
a  set  of  people  as  can  be  found  under  the  Southern 
Cross.  Much  of  the  island  is  given  up  to  sheep-farming, 
the  soil  and  grass  being  excellent.  It  was  rather  a 
disappointment  that  the  steamer  only  paused  at  Erro- 
manga to  land  a  passenger,  and  did  not  wait  at  all,  so 
that  no  visits  could  be  made.  But  that  is  one  of  the 
difficulties  of  seeing  the  New  Hebrides.  Without  a 
private  yacht,  at  least  six  months  would  be  needed  to 
see  all  the  important  islands,  unless  one  chose  to  be 
satisfied  with  a  single  morning  or  afternoon's  survey 
of  each. 

The  same  difficulty  tantalised  one  at  pretty  little 
Aneityum — a  month,  or  nothing.  But  after  all,  the 
Aneityumese  are  civilised  out  of  all  interest. 

It  is  very  gratifying,  from  a  moral  point  of  view, 
to  see  the  clean,  tidy,  school-attending,  prosaically 
peaceful  folk  that  have  replaced  the  original  savage; 
but  to  the  traveller,  original  savages  are  a  good  deal 
more  interesting. 

Ambrym,  with  its  great  volcano — ^which  takes  several 
days   to   visit — and    the   nimiber    of   heathens    it   still 


276  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

possesses,  was  much  more  tempting,  especially  when  one 
heard  that  many  strange  native  customs  survive  here, 
among  them  the  law  which  compels  a  woman  who 
meets  a  man  to  kneel  down  and  crawl  past  him  on  all 
fours!  The  Ambrym  mission  hospital  has  had  many 
cases  of  housemaid's  knee  to  treat,  owing  to  this  peculiar 
form  of  showing  respect  to  the  "lords  of  creation." 
And  as  for  Santo,  with  its  savage  people,  its  strange  relics 
of  sixteenth-century  Spanish  history,  and  its  reported 
ruined  city — relic  of  De  Quiros  and  his  " New  Jerusalem" 
— one  would  make  a  trip  to  the  islands  for  the  sake  of 
exploring  it  alone,  if  time  allowed.  But  time,  which 
in  one  sense  does  not  exist  in  the  New  Hebrides,  is,  in 
another,  the  greatest  barrier  between  the  group  and  the 
outer  world.  To  see  all  the  islands,  you  must  have  time 
to  spare,  time  to  burn,  time  to  throw  away — an  iron 
constitution,  unlimited  patience,  and  plenty  of  money 
as  well ;  but  above  all  things,  time.  And  the  few  months 
that  I  was  able  to  amass  to  spend  on  the  New  Hebrides 
were  not  by  any  means  enough.  So  Santo  and  Ambrym 
went  by  the  board;  Erromanga  was  passed  by,  and 
Pentecost,  Aoba,  Mae  wo,  and  Aurora  not  even  looked 
at.  It  was  a  pity — ^but  I  was  not  an  exploring  expe- 
dition, worse  luck. 

At  present  the  islands  are  in  a  state  of  paralysis, 
so  far  as  British  enterprise  is  concerned,  on  account  of 
the  duties  already  discussed.  Nothing  can  be  hoped 
until  these  are  removed.  But  if,  or  when,  they  are, 
there  is  certainly  a  field  for  enterprise  in  the  New  Hebrides. 
Almost  any  tropical  product  will  grow,  and  grow  well, 
and  Erromanga  has  a  future  before  it  for  sheep-farming 
on  a  moderate  scale.  Malekula  is  of  little  or  no  value 
to  the  settler,  being  almost  all  mountainous  bush  of  the 
densest  kind ;  but  many  of  the  smaller  islands  could  be 


TANNA— SCENERY  AND  RESOURCES       277 

used  profitably  if  there  were  only    a  market  for  their 
products. 

Island  fever  is  a  matter  of  the  greatest  possible 
interest  to  all  settlers  and  travellers.  It  may  be  said  at 
once  that  the  dangers  of  New  Hebridean  fever  have 
been  greatly  exaggerated.  Many  people  appear  to 
suppose  that  the  islands  are  ravaged  by  dread  diseases 
resembling  blackwater,  yellow  and  typhus  fevers,  which 
lay  hold  of  the  newcomer  without  warning,  and  kill 
him  off  in  a  few  days.  This  is,  of  course,  absurd.  Malaria 
there  is  in  the  New  Hebrides ;  plenty  of  it,  too,  and  almost 
everyone  suffers  from  it  more  or  less.  But  malaria  only 
kills  indirectly,  by  means  of  gradual  weakening  of  the 
constitution;  and  if  good  food  is  eaten,  and  common 
precaution  as  to  health  observed,  it  may  be,  and  often  is, 
escaped. 


OF  THE 


CHAPTER  XVI 

NORFOLK  ISLAND— GOOD-BYE 

The  Story  of  Norfolk  Island — A  Woman  in  the  Case — The 
Fate  of  the  Mutineers — In  the  New  Home — A  Valley 
of  Peace — Good-bye 

ON  THE  way  to  the  New  Hebrides  lies  an  island  of 
which  mention  cannot  be  omitted,  in  describing 
this  part  of  the  Pacific.  It  is  a  British  possession,  six 
miles  by  three,  lying  a  thousand  miles  northeast  of  Sydney ; 
it  has  a  population  of  about  eight  hundred  half-castes, 
and  a  hundred  whites ;  and  it  was  for  many  years  noto- 
rious to  the  civilised  world  as  the  worst  plague-spot 
in  the  whole  plague-smitten  system  of  colonial  trans- 
portation. 

To-day,  Norfolk  Island  is  the  most  peaceful,  sunny, 
and  happy  spot  under  the  Southern  Cross.  Lovely 
almost  beyond  description  it  always  was,  but  in  the  old, 
bad,  convict  days,  its  loveliness,  if  felt  at  all,  was  felt 
only  as  a  mockery  of  the  wretched  imprisoned  lives 
that  dragged  themselves  slowly  there  to  a  miserable 
end,  or — ^more  fortimate,  as  they  counted  it — ^were 
swung  quickly  out  of  life  some  morning,  on  the  arm  of 
the  never-sated  gallows-tree — 

Anywhere,  anywhere,  out  of  the  world! 

How  the  change  came  about,   is  a  long  story — so 

far  forgotten  by  the  world  in  general,  that  one  may  well 

risk  telling  it  again. 

279 


282  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

Ten  years  passed  by.  It  was  1800  now.  The  homes 
still  stood,  the  fertile  grotind  bore  richer  harvests  than 
ever,  the  little  feet  of  the  children  were  many  about  the 
green  valleys  of  Pitcaim.  But  where  were  the  parents 
— the  sailor  fathers,  the  soft-eyed  brown  Tahitian  mothers 
— and  where  were  the  Tahitian  men  who  had  followed 
their  strange  white  friends  away  into  exile? 

Dead,  all  but  one  miserable,  horror-struck,  repentant 
soul — the  sailor  Adams.  He  alone  survived — ^he  and 
the  innocent  children.  The  ten  years  that  had  passed 
had  been  ten  years  of  drunkenness,  debauchery,  fighting 
and  murder.  First,  the  men  had  found  out  the  way 
to  make  intoxicating  spirits  from  the  products  of  the 
island.  Then,  they  had  set  a-quarrelling  about  each 
other's  wives.  Then  murder  had  been  done,  and  done 
again,  and  some  had  died  mad  with  drink,  and  others 
had  sunk  from  disease.  And  the  end  of  it  all  was — 
Adams  left  on  the  island,  the  guardian  of  the  children — 
alone. 

The  man  had  been  piously  brought  up  in  his  youth, 
and  old  teachings  returned  to  him  now.  He  vowed  to 
make  his  life  an  expiation  henceforth,  and  to  bring  up 
the  dead  men's  children  honestly  and  well.  The  vow 
was  nobly  fulfilled.  When  Adams  died,  some  twenty 
years  later,  he  left  the  island  a  model  of  every  Christian 
virtue,  inhabited  by  a  people  of  remarkable  innocence 
and  goodness,  who  knew  nothing  of  the  outside  world, 
but  supported  themselves  entirely  on  the  produce  of 
their  island  home,  and  reverenced  their  aged  guide  as 
the  best  and  wisest  of  men. 

Adams  was  succeeded  in  his  governorship  by  a 
stranger,  one  Nobbs,  who  drifted  up  to  the  island  in 
1828,  and  being  a  worthy  character,  was  not  long  in 
gaining  the  confidence  and  affection  of  the  people.     The 


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NORFOLK  ISLAND— GOOD-BYE  283 

inhabitants  of  Pitcaim  now  increased  rapidly;  ships 
called  more  frequently,  and  the  world  began  to  hear 
about  this  strange  little  colony,  and  to  take  a  romantic 
interest  in  it.  Then  began  a  system  of  "lionising"  the 
descendants  of  the  Bounty  mutineers,  that  has  continued, 
in  one  way  and  another,  ever  since,  and  that  has  cer- 
tainly not  been  for  the  good  of  the  people.  With  pub- 
licity came  visits,  gifts,  patronage  of  various  kinds, 
and  at  last,  in  1856,  when  the  population,  now  near  two 
hundred,  had  almost  outgrown  the  limits  of  the  island, 
came  the  handsomest  present  of  all — ^beautiful,  fertile 
Norfolk  Island,  which  the  British  Government  offered 
to  the  people  of  Pitcaim  for  their  home. 

The  gift  was  gratefully  accepted,  and  the  Pitcaim 
Islanders  moved  across  the  Pacific,  in  a  ship  specially 
placed  at  their  disposal,  to  their  new  possession.  A  few 
returned  shortly  after,  but  the  great  majority  stayed. 

Norfolk  Island,  at  that  time,  had  been  lying  vacant 
for  some  years.  Discovered  by  Cook  in  1774,  it  was 
in  1826  taken  into  use  as  a  prison  of  special  severity  for 
the  worst  characters  among  the  criminals  transported 
to  Tasmania  ("Van  Dieman's  Land"). 

The  atrocities  of  the  Norfolk  Island  convict  system 
have  been  made  familiar  to  the  world  in  Marcus  Clarke's 
terrible  book,  "For  the  Term  of  His  Natural  Life."  The 
judgment  of  history  acquits  that  merciless  indictment 
of  all  exaggeration.  Whatever  the  crimes  of  the  prisoners 
may  have  been — and  in  many  cases  they  were  great, 
though  in  many  again  they  were  the  most  venial  of 
offences — the  punishment  which  all  alike  endured,  in 
the  hell  of  Norfolk  Island,  was  savagely  disproportioned 
to  the  ill-doing  that  brought  it  about.  The  discipline 
was  so  severe,  and  the  labour  so  hard,  that  suicide  was 
actually  epidemic  at  times.     Convicts  used  to  draw  lots 


284  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

for  who  should  kill  the  other,  thus  releasing  two  miserable 
prisoners — one  by  murder,  and  one  by  execution.  On 
the  gallows  that  stood  always  ready  before  the  prison 
gates,  men  used  to  be  led  out  by  dozens  at  a  time  for 
slaughter.  The  lash  was  busy  at  the  triangles  half  the 
day.  Men  were  worked  on  the  roads,  and  at  clearing 
labour,  until  their  worn-out  bodies  gave  way,  and  then 
tortured  almost  to  death,  or  quite,  for  breaking  down. 
Iron  rings  in  the  walls,  to  which  the  prisoners  were 
chained  like  beasts,  are  yet  to  be  seen  in  the  crumbling 
ruins  of  the  prison  buildings.  In  the  little,  still,  sunny 
graveyard  that  lies  far  beyond  the  town,  on  the  edge  of 
the  lonely  sea,  there  are  many  nameless  convict  graves 
among  the  white  stones  that  mark  the  tombs  of  those 
who  came  after.  .  .  ,  Honoured  names  at  home, 
it  may  be,  some  of  them,  long  and  long  ago — ^before  the 
fatal  cheque  was  signed,  or  the  blow  struck  in 
anger.  .  .  .  Outcast  for  ever  after,  forgotten  of 
man,  and  almost,  it  seemed,  of  God,  driven  to  death, 
and  cast  into  an  unnamed  grave — here,  "after  life's 
fitful  fever,  they  sleep  well" — under  the  shadow  of  the 
singing  Norfolk  pines,  while  Nature,  kindlier  than  man, 
covers  honoured  and  dishonoured  graves  alike  with 
tender  leaf  and  flower. 

The  shadow  of  misery  and  crime  has  long  since  passed 
away  from  the  beautiful  home  of  the  Pitcaim  people. 
The  convict  station  had  been  permanently  removed 
some  years  before  their  arrival,  and  the  unoccupied 
buildings — soldiers'  barracks,  storehouses,  prison — were 
converted  by  the  new  owners  into  churches,  courthouse, 
and  schools.  They  found  the  island  in  such  order  as 
never  another  island  in  the  Pacific  could  show — the 
whole  surface  of  six  miles  by  three  as  well  cleared  and 
laid   out   as   a  gentleman's  park   in   England;  splendid 


NORFOLK  ISLAND— GOOD-BYE  285 

roads  and  substantial  bridges  constructed,  weeds  and 
poisonous  plants  cleared  away,  and  only  so  much  bush 
left  in  out-of-the-way  places  as  might  serve  to  protect 
the  game.  Free  men,  working  as  ordinary  settlers  work, 
would  not  have  done  as  much  in  a  century  as  had  been 
done  by  the  convicts  in  less  than  one  generation.  It  was 
slave  labour,  and  it  performed  colossal  results,  as  slave 
labour  has  done  since  the  days  of  the  Pyramids  onward — 
not  often,  though,  on  British-owned  soil,  and  in  the 
Victorian  age  of  England. 

The  Bounty  people,  numbering  194,  settled  down 
contentedly  in  their  new  home,  and  increased  rapidly. 
During  the  half -century  that  followed  their  occupation 
of  the  island,  the  world  heard  a  good  deal  about  them 
from  time  to  time,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  place  was 
visited  only  by  stray  whaling  ships.  Queen  Victoria 
was  much  interested  in  the  people,  and  sent  them  gifts 
of  goods  and  clothing  more  than  once.  The  sentimental 
world  of  the  sixties  shed  the  tear  of  sensibility  over  their 
innocence  and  virtue.  They  formed  the  text  of  many 
a  magazine  sermon  on  the  uselessness  of  riches,  such  as 
was  popular,  and  profitable,  in  the  seventies  and  eighties. 
Later  on,  whispers  began  to  circulate  in  the  colonial 
press,  suggesting  that  the  innocence  of  Norfolk  Island 
was  growing  a  little  out  at  elbows;  but  the  public  fancy 
would  not  be  deprived  of  its  toy  so  easily,  and  it  was  not 
till  a  Commission  appointed  by  the  Government  of  New 
South  Wales  reported  unfavourably  on  the  general  con- 
dition of  affairs  in  the  island,  that  people  began  to  realise 
the  Norfolkers  were  only  human.  Quarrelling  and 
malicious  outrages,  it  seemed,  had  become  frequent,  the 
island  council,  which  had  always  administered  justice, 
was  ceasing  to  give  satisfaction,  and  the  morality  of  the 
place  left  much  to  be  desired.     Under  these  circumstances 


286  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

it  was  thought  best  to  annex  the  place  to  the  Government 
of  New  South  Wales,  and  this  was  accordingly  done  in 
1902,  with  the  consent  of  the  people.  Since  then,  a 
resident  magistrate  from  Australia  has  governed  the 
island,  and  law  and  order  are  firmly  reestablished. 
Captain  Drake,  R.  N.,  and  Mrs.  Drake,  are  greatly  loved 
by  the  kindly  islanders,  and  their  occupation  of  Gov- 
ernment House  has  been  in  every  way  for  the  good  of 
the  people. 

The  Norfolk  Islanders  now  number  over  eight  hun- 
dred, and  there  are  about  a  hundred  white  immigrants 
of  various  kinds,  most  of  whom  belong  to  the  newly 
established  cable  station.  The  islanders  themselves  have 
intermarried  with  whites  so  little  as  not  to  count,  and  are, 
therefore,  still  half-caste.  The  natural  tendency  is  to 
suppose  that  "they  must  be  nearly  white  by  this  time." 
Of  course,  this  is  not  the  case,  as  the  half-caste  children 
of  the  Bounty  sailors  and  the  Tahitian  women  have  been 
intermarrying  ever  since,  and  the  dark  blood  is  still 
there.  There  are  only  eight  surnames  among  the  eight 
hundred  people — they  are  all  Adams,  Nobbs,  Fletchers, 
Quintals,  Buffets,  M'Coys,  Christians,  and  Youngs,  all 
related  and  re-related  and  intermarried  in  a  manner  that 
no  outsider  could  possibly  disentangle.  Everyone  is 
everyone  else's  cousin  many  times  over,  everybody 
resembles  everybody  else  to  such  an  extent  that  the 
newcomer  never  knows  who  his  acquaintances  are; 
most  people  on  the  island  live  alike,  think  alike,  talk 
alike.  There  are  some  variations,  however,  mostly  in 
the  degree  of  colour.  Many  of  the  islanders  are  as  white, 
save  for  exposure  to  the  weather,  as  most  English,  and 
others  are  no  darker  than  Italians.  Some,  again,  are  as 
coffee-brown  as  a  full-blooded  Tahitian.  There  are 
different  types  of  feature  among  them.     I  have  seen  a 


CAPTAIN  DRAKE,  R.  N.,  AND  MRS.  DRAKE 
GOVERNMENT  HOUSE 


GARDEN  FENCE  OF  WHALES'  RIBS  AND  VERTEBR.Ii 


NORFOLK  ISLAND— GOOD-BYE  287 

Christian  (descendant  of  the  Bounty  officer  of  that  name), 
who  had  the  typical  face  of  the  well-born  naval  man,  to 
a  line.  He  was  barefoot,  and  wore  rough  dungarees, 
could  read  and  write,  but  nothing  more,  and  was  glad 
of  any  small  labouring  job  that  put  a  penny  in  his  pocket 
for  tobacco.  .  .  .  Christian,  the  lieutenant,  involved 
in  the  mutiny  against  his  will,  driven  to  brutality  and 
crime  by  despair,  and  scorched  throughout  his  brief  life 
on  Pitcairn  by  such  a  sense  of  burning  degradation  as 
only  a  broken  King's  officer  in  like  case  could  know, 
begged  at  the  last  to  have  his  grave  concealed,  and  his 
name  forgotten.  The  world  would  find  the  refugees 
some  day,  he  knew,  and  he  could  not  bear  the  thought  of 
his  name,  once  honoured,  going  down  to  all  the  ages  as 
that  of  a  traitor  to  his  King.  ...  It  was  a  wish 
impossible  to  fulfil.  The  Eighteenth-Century  officer 
might  turn  in  his  grave  to-day,  if  he  could  hear  how 
often  the  tale  of  the  mutiny  is  told,  and  how  proudly 
his  half-black  descendants  cling  to  every  fragment  of 
property,  each  garbled  tradition,  left  behind  of  the  life 
that  he  only  wished  to  be  forgotten  in  its  unknown  grave 
for  ever. 

Among  the  women,  many  show  traces  of  the  beauty 
that  was  the  undoing  of  the  Bounty  men,  long  ago.  Large 
dark,  shining  eyes  are  common,  with  long  soft  hair, 
pleasant  features,  and  a  singularly  sweet  smile.  The 
voices  of  all  the  islanders  are  remarkably  low  and  musical. 
They  are  the  voices  of  those  whose  ancestors  for  many 
generations  have  never  known  hurry  or  anxiety,  of  people 
dwelling  in  "a  land  where  it  is  always  afternoon" — of  a 
gentle  dreamy  folk,  living  slow  sweeet  lives  as  changeless 
as  the  empty  sea  that  rings  round  their  island  home. 
Music  is  a  passion  with  almost  every  islander,  and  the 
tendency   shows    in   their   curious   half-singing   speech. 


288  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

They  are  a  dreamy  folk,  too,  and  will  lie  motionless  for 
hours  under  the  murmuring  pines,  looking  at  the  sea — 
just  as  the  indolent  amiable  Tahitian  lies  to-day,  on  the 
grassy  shores  of  the  road  leading  out  from  Papeete. 
But  the  sailor  blood  shows  too,  and  strongly.  There 
are  no  finer  boatmen,  no  more  daring  whalers,  in  all 
the  Pacific,  than  these  indolent  dreamers,  when  the 
mood  for  action  is  on  them.  Most  of  the  small  stock  of 
solid  cash  which  they  need  for  clothing,  groceries  and 
other  luxuries  of  civilisation,  is  obtained  by  the  sale  of 
whale-oil.  This  is  a  smaller  source  of  income  than  in 
former  times,  since  the  price  of  whale-oil  has  gone  down 
considerably,  but  a  good  deal  is  still  made  in  this  way 
during  the  season,  which  lasts  from  about  May  to  October. 

I  was  not  fortunate  enough  to  visit  Norfolk  Island 
at  that  time,  and  so  missed  the  exciting  spectacle,  which 
is  occasionally  to  be  enjoyed,  of  huge  whaleboats  tearing 
through  the  sea  at  the  speed  of  an  Atlantic  liner,  fast 
to  a  furious  whale.  The  chase  is  a  dangerous  one,  but 
those  who  have  had  an  opportunity  of  joining  in  it  say 
that  there  is  nothing  else  in  the  world  of  sport  to  com- 
pare with  it.  And  indeed,  one  can  well  imagine  that  the 
biggest  of  big  game  shooting  might  seem  tame  beside  it. 

It  is  a  fortunate  thing,  for  the  traveller  who  loves 
quaint  and  unspoiled  places,  that  the  five  days'  passage 
from  Sydney  (usually  stormy),  in  a  small  steamer,  keeps 
the  tourist  world  away  from  Norfolk  Island.  Only 
a  stray  wanderer  drifts  up  now  and  then,  to  seek  for 
health,  perhaps,  in  the  quiet  island  valleys,  or  to  spend 
a  holiday  away  from  the  cruel  heat  of  Australia.  The 
people  are  glad  to  take  in  a  boarder,  and  to  make  a 
little  money  for  dress  goods,  sugar  and  tea,  and  they 
are  (like  all  Polynesian  or  semi-Polynesian  races)  the 
soul  of  hospitality.     If  the  absence  of  contact  with  the 


NORFOLK  ISLAND— GOOD-BYE  289 

outer  world  has  made  them  simple  and  somewhat  narrow, 
it  has  also  preserved  them  entirely  from  things  that  are 
worse  than  a  limited  outlook.  Every  Norfolker,  bare- 
foot, uneducated,  and  unversed  in  the  ways  of  the  world 
of  society  though  he  may  be,  is  nevertheless  a  gentleman 
in  all  essentials.  The  quiet  self-possession,  the  low 
pleasant  voice,  the  easy  courtesy  of  the  Norfolker  to  any 
stranger,  whether  a  globe-trotting  peer,  or  a  broken- 
down  sailor  run  away  from  his  ship,  can  only  be  matched 
elsewhere  in  what  is  known  as  "the  very  best"  society. 
There  is  not  the  first  trace  of  a  snob  about  him,  and  the 
gnawing  worm  of  social  ambition  never  eats  at  the  heart 
of  his  sun- warmed  apple  of  life.  Norfolk  Island  has  a 
bishop,  a  number  of  clergy,  a  carefully  graded  set  of  cable 
company  officials,  one  or  two  unoccupied  land-holders, 
and  .various  store-keepers,  large  and  small,  so  that  all 
the  materials  for  cliqueism  in  its  worst  form  are  there — 
"instead  of  which"  everyone  in  the  island  knows  every- 
one else  on  terms  of  complete  equality,  the  shoeless 
fisher-lad  beats  the  bishop  at  tennis,  and  goes  to  tea  with 
him  afterward,  the  pretty  island  girl  who  is  parlour-maid 
at  Government  House  chats  to  the  visitors  as  she  waits 
at  lunch,  and  the  distinguished  stranger  arriving  at  the 
island  will  probably  be  asked  to  join  the  butcher's  or 
the  carpenter's  family  in  a  picnic  up  Mount  Pitt — and 
will  certainly  enjoy  it  if  he  goes.  Yes,  the  flavour  of 
story-book  Arcadia  has  not  deserted  Norfolk  yet,  in 
spite  of  governors  and  cable  stations. 

Every  family  has  its  own  share  of  the  land,  and  raises 
its  own  crops  of  potatoes,  kumara  (sweet  potato) ,  Indian 
corn,  and  fruit.  There  is  plenty  of  land  for  all,  and  some 
over.  The  whaling  industry  is  carried  out  by  the  men 
who  are  in  the  prime  of  life,  and  the  proceeds  divided 
among  the  different  families  by  a  system  of  "companies." 


290  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

So  many  families  belong  to  A  company,  so  many  to  B 
company,  and  so  on.  The  entire  proceeds  of  the  season's 
whaling  for  each  company  are  divided  among  all  the 
families  supplying  active  members  to  the  company.  If 
a  woman's  husband  dies,  she  still  continues  to  draw  her 
share  from  the  company  to  which  he  belonged,  for  Nor- 
folk Island  is  kind  to  widows.  Every  family  has  its  own 
cattle  and  horses,  both  of  a  good  kind  as  a  rule,  and 
fowls  are  very  commonly  kept.  Fish  abound  round  the 
coasts,  and  fruit  runs  wild  everywhere,  and  there  are 
fine  pheasants  in  the  bush,  and  a  perfect  plague  of  fat 
quails.  Thus,  the  island  itself  provides  all  that  is  neces- 
sary to  life,  and  the  proceeds  of  the  whaling,  or  of  fruit 
and  onion  farming,  go  to  furnish  the  small  superfluities 
that  even  a  Norfolk  Islander  likes  to  have. 

They  are  a  handy  folk,  and  can  turn  their  abilities 
to  any  useful  art.  All  the  people  build  their  own  houses, 
and  there  is  not  a  house  in  the  island  (save  one  or  two 
stores),  that  does  not  show  the  best  of  natural  taste. 
The  model  is  usually  the  same — a  long,  low,  one-storeyed 
building,  constructed  of  pine  boards  "weathered"  to  a 
delightful  brownish  gray;  pine  shingle  roof,  high  and 
pointed,  and  topped  with  a  gay  red  ridge-pole;  deep 
veranda  running  all  round  the  house,  and  a  tangle  of 
vivid  flowering  creepers  overrunning  the  whole  building. 
Round  about  it  the  stately  Norfolk  pines  rear  their 
splendid  heads  a  hundred  feet  into  the  blue,  and  you 
shall  see,  almost  to  a  certainty,  a  slip  of  level  turquoise 
sea,  set  gem-like  somewhere  among  the  velvet  folds  of 
the  green  encompassing  hills. 

The  most  elaborate,  and  by  many  the  most  admired 
buildings  on  the  island,  are  those  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land Melanesian  Mission.  Norfolk  Island  has  for  many 
years  been  the  headquarters  of  this  mission,  which  has  to 


NORFOLK  ISLAND— GOOD-BYE  291 

do  with  the  Solomons,  and,  in  a  lesser  degree,  with  the 
New  Hebrides.  It  owns  a  very  handsome  church,  which, 
possesses,  among  other  beauties,  stained-glass  windows 
by  Burne- Jones,  and  some  very  elaborate  pearl-shell 
inlay  work  done  by  Solomon  Island  converts.  There 
are  usually  several  hundred  Solomon  Island  natives  in 
the  Church  schools,  being  trained  by  a  staff  of  missionary 
workers  for  teaching  in  their  own  islands.  The  English 
missionaries  stationed  in  the  Solomons  come  down  here 
from  time  to  time  to  change  and  recruit.  The  Norfolk 
Islanders  themselves  are  partly  Church  of  England,  and 
partly  Methodist. 

Other  objects  of  public  interest  in  the  island  there 
are  none,  save  the  crumbling  ruins  of  some  of  the  old 
prisons,  and  a  broken-down  arch  on  one  of  the  roads, 
known  as  the  "Bloody  Bridge,"  from  a  desperate  fight 
that  once  took  place  there  between  the  convicts  and  their 
guards.  Philip  Island  and  Nepean  Island,  lying  close  to 
the  shore,  are  only  interesting  from  a  far-off  scenic  point 
of  view,  and  there  is  not  a  single  show  waterfall  or  a  rock 
with  a  fantastic  name,  or  any  place  called  anybody's 
"Leap,"  in  the  whole  island.  For  this  relief,  the  too- 
much-experienced  traveller  will  offer  ready  thanks. 

Yet  there  is  much  to  see  there,  and  plenty  to  do, 
after  the  fashion  of  Norfolk  Island,  which  is  like  no  other 
fashion  in  the  world.  .  .  .  Shall  I  tell  it  all,  and  let 
the  world  in  general  into  the  secrets  of  the  prettiest  and 
quaintest  little  place  on  the  globe?  Shall  I  let  them 
know  about  the  rich  warm  valleys  where  grapes  run 
wild  in  the  trees,  and  the  purple  globes  of  the  passion- 
fruit  are  strung  as  close  on  their  long  green  tendrils  as 
gems  on  a  necklace,  and  gold  guavas  lie  tumbled  in  the 
grass  like  the  eggs  of  some  magic  bird,  and  peaches, 
that  would  bring  a  shilling  each   in    Covent    Garden, 


292  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

are  left  to  rot  on  the  ground,  because  there  are  so  many- 
thousands  that  not  even  the  pigs  can  finish  them,  and 
oranges  and  lemons  hang  like  lamps  in  the  dark  green 
boughs,  and  bananas  droop  under  hundred-weights  of 
yellow  fruit,  and  red  coffee-berries  glisten  in  the  low 
bushes,  and  melons  and  strawberries  run  riot  in  the  gar- 
den land  above?  Shall  I  send  the  invalid  of  the  cold 
northern  countries,  and  the  burning  southern  continents, 
looking  after  a  climate  that  is  one  long  sweet  spring  from 
year  to  year,  without  great  heat,  without  chill  or  frost 
or  hurricane  or  drought?  Shall  I  tell  of  the  exquisite 
beauty  of  an  island  that  is  all  one  flawless  gem  from  shore 
to  shore — ^that  mimics  delicately  the  best  of  summer 
English  landscapes,  and  sets  them  in  a  frame  of  tropic 
sea,  and  hangs  them  about  with  beautiful  alien  fruits  and 
flowers,  as  with  a  garland?  Shall  I  tell  of  the  kindly 
simple  people,  and  the  endless  afternoons  in  some  pine- 
shaded  house  above  the  sounding  sea,  where  a  girl,  with 
eyes  of  the  burning  South  set  in  a  face  of  pale  old  ivory, 
sits  dreaming  over  a  worn  piano,  and  plays  her  dreams 
as  they  arise,  and  the  father  of  the  house,  sea-bronzed 
and  strong,  tells  wild  unbelievable  stories  to  the  stranger 
of  perilous  adventures  on  the  whaling-grounds?  Nights 
when  half  the  island  is  out  a-dancing  in  each  other's 
houses — days  and  weeks  when  lawn  tennis  is  the  only 
thought  from  dawn  to  dusk,  and  no  one  troubles  about 
the  crops,  or  the  current  European  war,  or  the  rise  and 
fall  of  far-away  kings,  because  there  is  matter  more  im- 
portant afoot,  in  the  fate  of  the  Island  Cup — half-days, 
and  hours,  and  nights,  taken  up  in  an  ecstasy  of  violin 
or  harmonium  or  flute  playing,  with  all  the  neighbours 
in  hearing  distance  leaving  their  work  and  coming  in 
to  join — celebration  days,  when  all  the  Bounty  families 
dress  in  man-of-war  costume,  men  in  full  suits,  girls  in 


TENNIS,  NORFOLK  ISLAND 


GOVERNMENT  HOUSE,  NORFOLK  ISLAND 


NORFOLK  ISLAND— GOOD-BYE  293 

jumpers  and  white  skirts,  and  commemorate  the  day 
when  their  forefathers  landed  on  Pitcairn — mornings 
of  wild  riding  on  sturdy  island  horses  among  the  beauti- 
ful hills,  with  companions,  men  and  women,  who  sit 
saddleless,  yet  steady  as  centaurs,  and  race  the  well- 
equipped  visitor  madly  up  and  down  hill.  .  .  Yes, 
one  may  safely  tell  it  all,  for  most  of  what  one  says  will 
not  be  believed — are  not  travellers  proverbial  fiction- 
mongers? — and  Norfolk  Island  is  so  very  far  away,  that 
of  those  who  do  believe,  and  would  willingly  go  and 
find  this  wonderful  Vale  of  Arcady,  scarce  one  will  be 
able  to  find  an  opportunity.  So  the  bloom  may  remain 
on  the  fruit  for  just  a  little  longer. 

The  islanders  have  their  faults.  They  have  been 
lionised  and  petted  by  a  far-away  public,  too  much  and 
too  long.  They  are  a  little  vain,  in  consequence,  and 
somewhat  inclined  to  over-estimate  their  own  importance 
on  the  mighty  map  of  the  world.  And — as  one  might 
well  expect — these  children  of  lawless  mutineers  and 
sensuous  Tahitians  are  sensuous  themselves.  Yet,  after 
all,  none  of  their  faults  equal,  or  even  approach,  the 
corresponding  vices  of  more  sophisticated  nations.  And 
they  are  very  lovable,  very  generous,  very  kind,  one  may 
well  leave  criticism  at  that. 

Intermarriage  is  becoming  a  serious  question.  The 
islanders  passionately  admire  one  another,  and  are 
clannish  in  the  highest  degree.  They  marry  almost 
altogether  among  themselves,  and  the  results  that  might 
be  expected  are  beginning  to  show.  The  type  of  physique 
is  distinctly  on  the  down  grade.  Consumption  is  becom- 
ing rather  common ;  cancer  is  seen  now  and  then ;  rickets 
is  not  unknown,  and  there  is  rather  too  large  a  propor- 
tion of  weak  intellect.  Efforts  are  being  made  by  the 
resident   magistrate    and    the   Government    doctor    to 


294  FIJI  AND  ITS  POSSIBILITIES 

induce  the  islanders  to   marry   into   other  famiHes,  but 
so  far  without  much  result. 

No  one  who  ever  stayed  in  Norfolk  Island  left  it 
without  regret.  No  one  ever  left  it,  but  would  dearly 
love  to  visit  it  again.  It  is  one  of  the  few  spots  on 
earth's  surface  that  takes  close  and  lasting  hold  upon  the 
hearts  of  all  who  know  it. 

So — ^not  because  they  were  ended,  but  because  a 
book  must  end — the  tale  of  my  wanderings  closes.  If 
there  is  a  moral,  or  a  meaning,  the  reader  must  find  it. 


THE   END 


INDEX 


INDEX 

Route:  London,  down  the  coasts  of  France  and  Spain,  up  the 
Mediterranean,  by  Scylla  and  Charybdis,  Port  Said,  through  the 
Gateways  of  the  East;  Red  Sea,  Aden,  Indian  Ocean,  Ceylon,  3. 
West  Australia,  Melboiu-ne,  Tasmania,  Sydney,  4.  Fiji,  Suva,  5-30. 
Viti  Levu,  5-81.  Ba,  over  the  hills  and  far  away,  30-33. 
Pandanus  Prairies,  33-37.  The  Naloto  Range,  37.  A  Tropical 
Forest,  37-39.  Nandrunga,  40-47.  Tambal^,  47.  Nambukuya, 
the  city  of  a  dream,  47-54.  Natuatuathoko,  60-65.  Singatoka 
River,  60,  63,  67,  68.  Lemba-Lemba,  an  important  town,  70. 
Koronisingana,  73-75.  Mavua,  the  biggest  town  on  the  Singatoka 
River,  76-81.  Vanua  Levu,  83-138.  Lambasa,  principal  Port  of 
VanuaLevu,  83.  Vuo,  87.  Wainikoro  River,  91-96.  Wainikoro, 
96.  Wainikoro  River,  97-98.  Ndreketi  River,  101-119.  Tambia, 
a  place  to  let  alone,  1 01- 103.  Nanduri,  a  high-class  town,  103-107. 
Tumba,  a  town  on  the  Ndreketi  River,  107,  111-119.  The 
Ndreketi  or  Senganga  district,  the  "back  of  beyond,"  1 21-138. 
Nanduri,  128,  129.  Lambasa,  129-132.  Tavitmi,  one  of  the 
larger  islands,  132-137. 


Agriculture,  see  also  Industries, 
and  Products 
Australian  emigrants,  12 
cattle,  38,  57,  62,   67,    117 

132-137 
fowl,  51,  55,  71,  74,  76,  79, 

94,  95,  104,  114,  117 
horses,  57 
pigs,  53.  57.  65,  71,  74,  78, 

79,  95,  104,  114 
sheep,  57 

vanilla    plantation,    23-25, 
130-132 
Allamanda,  123 
Allspice,  28 


American  Civil  War  proved  the 
importance  of  Fiji's  cot- 
ton industry,  12 
Andi  Keva,  a  coasting  steamer, 

77 
Anglo-French    Convention,    139 
Animal  life 
birds 

fowl,  51,  55,  71,  74,  76, 
79,  94,  95,  104,  114, 
117 
honey -birds,  116,  117 
parrots,  116, 
fish 

river-clams,  79 


297 


298 


INDEX 


Animal  Life 
fish 

crayfish,  65,  71,  79  104, 

114 
prawn,  55 
shark,  69, 98-99 
insects 

beetles,  123 

centipedes,  1 1 6-1 17,123 
fleas,  123-125 
flies,  loi 
leaf-insects,  117 
mosquitoes,  7 
scorpions,  117 
stick-insects,  117 
ticks,  116,  117 
mammals 

cattle,   57,   62,  67,  80, 

117,  132-137 
goats,  117 
horses,  57 

pigs,  53,  57,  65,  71,  74, 
78,  79,  95,  104,  114 
sheep, 57 

wild  boars,  116,  117 
wild  cats,  116,  117 
reptiles 

chameleons,  116 
serpents,  116 
snakes,    116 
Annatto,  28 
Areca-nut  palms,  28 
Armed  native  constabulary,    9, 

21,  86 
Arrowroot,  28,  105 
Astrolabe,  D'Urville's  ship,  10 
Australian  emigrants,  12 
Azalea,  39 

Ba,  17,30,31,38,  58 

Bad  Lot,  (Tha  Levu),  a  heredi- 
tary devil-priest,  122 

Baker,  Sir  Samuel,  98 

Bamboo,  36,  41,  42,  44,  45,  48, 
60,  61,  63,  74,  76,  97,  124 

Bananas,  17,  28,  35,  42,  47,  48, 
53.  54.  67,  80,  105,  no 

Banks,  cannibal  group,  9 


Bar  at  the  mouth  of  the  Singa- 

toka  River,  67-68 
Ba  River,  58,  80 
Bau  ndina,  a  rose-red  wood,  113 
Bau,  Thakombau's  birthplace,  62 
Bau  vundi,  a  kind  of  cedar,  113 
Beardsley,  Aubrey,  34 
Beauty  in  Fiji,  9 
Bed,  a  colossal,  43-44 
Beetles,  123 

Bethune,  Capt.,  explorer,  10 
Biology,  see  Animal  Life 
BHgh,  explorer,  10 
Bog,  a  treacherous,   108-110 
Bosi,  or  Council  of  Chiefs,  73 
Botanic  Gardens,  Suva,  27 
Botany,   see    Plant    Life 
Bounty,  mutiny  of  the,  10 
Bread-fruit  tree,  42 
British   Colonies 

coloured   citizens,   18 

Constitution,  18 

Government,  9,   13,   14,    52 

57 

improvements,  13-14,  18 
Bua-bua,  the  box-wood  of  the 

Pacific,  112 
Building,  21 
Buildings 

church,  53 

Government  House,  6,  22 

house  of  a  mission-teacher, 

49-50 
house  of  the  Buli  of  Mavua, 
one  of  the  finest  in  Fiji, 

77 
house  of   the  good  BuU  of 

Lemba-Lemba,  70-73 
house  of  Turanga  Lil^wa  ,46 
jail  at  Suva,   19-20 
mountain  house,  41-44,  45 
Buli,  term  for  a  high  chief,  18,  70 
Burton,  explorer,  30,  56,  116 

Cannibal  Islands,  11 
Cannibalism,    see    Murders 
Card-playing  in  Nanduri,  105,106 
Cassia,  28 


FIJI  AND   ITS  POSSIBILITIES 


299 


Castor  oil,  28,  131 

Cattle,  38,  57,  62,  67,  117 

Cattle-ranching,  132-137 

Cells  in  Suva  jail,  19 

Census,  15 

Centipedes,  116-117,  123 

Cevua,  or  bastard  sandalwood, 
112 

Chameleons,  116 

Chestnuts,  114,  118 

Chillies,  28 

Chinese,  8,  86 

Church,  53,  121 

Cigarettes,  53,  109 

Cities,  see  Geography 

Citrons,  36,  38,  59 

City,  a  dream,  47-54 

Civilisation  only  varnish  deep,  37 

Civilised  natives  become  excel- 
lent soldiers,  9 

Clams,  river,  79 

Climate,  7.32,33.  57.  59,68 

Cloves,  28 

Cocoa,  28,  79,  118,  119 

Cocoanut,  42,  55,  67,  71,  tz,  75, 
78,   87,   93,   105,   108,   no, 

117,126 
fibre  (sinnet),  42,  50 

Cocoa-palm,  79,  118 
-planting,  119 

Coffee,  17,  58,  80 

Colonial    Sugar    Refining    Com- 
pany, 17,  31,  86 

Commerce,    see    Industries 

Constabulary,  9,  21,  86 

Contents,  vii 

Convicts,  17-25 

Cook,  explorer,  10,  98 

Cook-houses  in  Suva  jail,   19 

Cook  Islands,   15 

Copra    (the   dried   meat   of   the 
cocoanut),  12,  17,  133,  134 

Cotton,  12,31 

Crayfish,  river-,  65,  71,  79,   104, 

114 
Cricket-playing  law,  106 
Crimes,  17,  18-25 
Croton  oil,  28 


Crotons,  47,  60 

Curio  shops,  Suva,  27 

Curry,  28,  126 

Curse  of  the  spotted  bun,  36 

Customs 

eating,  71 

entering    houses,    rule    for, 
42,  102 

Dakua,    wood    resembling    the 
New    Zealand    kauri    pine, 
112,  119 
Dancing,  9 

at  funeral  of  great  chief,  9 
at  wedding  of  great  chief,  9 
Mavuan  sunset,  76 
Meke-mek^,      a      sing-song 
dance,   77-79,    105,   106- 
107 
solo,  9 
tribe,  9 

Waves  of  the  Sea,  one  of 
the       most        celebrated 
dances,  9-10 
Decline  of  population,  15,  16 
Devil  worship,  122-125 
Diseases,  see  Sickness 
Dormitories  in  Suva  jail,  19 
Dracaenas,  47,  60 
Dress,  34,  35,  45,  53 
Drugs,  17 
D'Urville,  explorer,  10 

Eastern  Islands,  9 

Eating  and  talking,  two  great 

ends  of  a  Fijian's  existence, 
50-51,  56-57,  65,  71,  75, 
76,  79,  80 
Economic  conditions,  17 
Education 

early  missionaries,  10,  11,  13 

Sunday  chtirch,  121 
Emigrants,  Australian,  12 
Entering  houses,  rule  for,  42,  102 
Erythroxylon  coca  (from  which 

cocaine  is  extracted),   28 
Euchre  in  Nanduri,  105 
Europeans  in  Fiji,  census  of,  15 


300 


INDEX 


Executive    council    of    five    for 

British    Governor    in    Fiji, 
14 
Explorers 

Baker,  Sir  Samuel,  98 

Bethune,  Captain,  10 

Bligh,  10 

Burton,  30,  $6,  116 

Cook,  10,  98 

D'Urville,  10 

La  P^rouse,  98 

Livingstone,  92,  116 

Speke,  30,  56,  92 

Stanley,  30,  36,  56,  83,  116, 
128 

Tasman,  10 

U.  S.  Exploring  Expedition, 
10 
Exports,  17,  58 


Feasting,  9 

Fever,  7,  68,  84 

Flag-staff  Hill,  Suva,  27 

Fleas,  123-125 

Flies,  10 1 

Flowers,  see  Plant  life 

Food  Products,  see  Products 

Forest,  a  tropical,  37-39 

Fowl,  51,  55,  71,  74,  76,  79.  94. 
95,  104,  114,  117 
as  served  in  Fiji,  51 

Friendliness,  9 

Funeral  dance,  9 


Gardening,  9 

Garden    of    the    Swiss    Family 
Robinson,  27-28 

Geography 

Ba,  17,  30,  3i»38,  58 
Ba  River,  58,  80 
Banks,    cannibal    group,    9 
Bau,    Thakombau's    birth- 
place, 62 
Eastern  Islands,  9 
Kandavu,  a  province,  14 
Koronisingana,  73,  74 


Geography 

Lambasa,     principal     port 

of  Vanua  Levu,   83,   86, 

117,  129 
Lemba  -  Lemba,  an  impor- 
tant town,  70 
Levuka,  former  capital   of 

Fiji,  7,  13,  III 
Mangaia,  Island  of,  16 
Mavua,  the  biggest  town  on 

the  Singatoka  River,   76, 

81 
Moala,  Island  of,  10 
Nambukuya,  the  city  of  a 

dream,  40,  47-54,  55.  5^ 
Nandrunga,  a  small  village, 

40,  58 
Nanduri,  a  handsome  town, 

103-107,  128,  129 
Natuatuathoko,  a  mountain 

fortress  town,  57,  58,  60, 

61 
Ndreketi    River,     101-119, 

121,  122,  128 
New  Caledonia,  38 
New     Hebrides,      cannibal 

group,  9 
Ngeo,  Island  of,  113 
Niud,  Island  of,  16 
Ovalau,  Island  of,  7 
Prince  William  Islands,  10 
R^wa  River,  69 
Rotumah,  Island  of,  15 
Senganga,    the    "back    of 

beyond,"  121-138 
Singatoka  River,  60,  63,  67, 

68,  80,  8r,  88 
Singatoka  Valley,  56,  75 
Solomons,  cannibal    group, 

9 
South  Seas,  ii,  15,  27 
Suva,    present    capital     of 
Fiji,  5,6,  7,  13,  17-25,  27, 
28,  29,  31,  67,  80,  81,  85, 
88,  103, 117,  119,  122, 128, 

130.  ^23^  134 
Suva  Harbour,  27 
Tamavua  River,  27 


FIJI  AND   ITS  POSSIBILITIES 


301 


Geography 

Tambal^,  a  tiny  village,  47 
Tambia,     a    place    to    let 

alone,   101-103,  104,  114 
Taviuni,  one  of  the  larger 

islands,  17,  115,  132-137 
Tavua  River,  58 
Tholo  West  Country  (Singa- 

toka  and  highlands),  132 
Timor,  10 
Tonga,  group  of  islands,  12, 

13.  16 
Tumba,     a    town    on    the 

Ndreketi  River,  107,  iii- 

119,  122,  128 
Vanua  Levu  (Great  Land), 

6,23,83-99,113,  114,  127, 

129, 130 
Vatoa,  Island  of,  10 
Viti  Levu  (Great  Fiji),  6,  7, 

39,83,86,87,88,113,  114 
Vuo,  98 

Wainikoro,  87,  88,  91,  96 
Wainikoro  River,  91 
Gideon's  transformation,  1 25-128 
wonder  tales,   88-89,   ^^3~ 

114 
Ginger,  28 
Goats,  117 
Government 

British,  9,  13,  14,  52,  57 
Constitution,  18 
Cricket-playing  law,   106 
House  at  Suva,  6,  22,  122 
Penal    system,  humours  of 

the,  17-25 
Post,  25,  129 

Under  the  present   Gover- 
nor, 15 
United    States    and    King 

Thakombau,  11,  13 
Viti    Levu,    seat   of   Fijian 

Government,  7 
Government  armed  native  con- 
stabulary, 9,  21,  86 
Gratitude,  71-72 
Great  Britain  refuses  King  Tha- 
kombau's  offer,  1 1 


Grief,  125-126 
Guavas,  60,  63,  80,  117 
Guinea-grass,  54 
Gum,  112 

Arabic,  28 

Hair-dress,  45-47,  75,  78,  105 

Half-castes,  8,  15 
census  of,  15 

Heathen  days  of  Fiji,  10 

Hemp,  sisal,  28 

Hibiscus,  63,  117 

High  Commissioner  of  the  West- 
ern Pacific,  14 

History,  10-17 

Discovered  by  Tasman,  10; 
Vatoa  sighted  by  Cook, 
10;  Moala,  observations 
made  by  Bligh,  10;  First 
chart  constructed  by 
D'Urville,  10;  Cannibal- 
ism, 11;  Civilisation,  11; 
Thakombau,  King,  one  of 
the  worst  monsters  of 
cruelty  since  Nero,  11; 
Islands  offered  to  Great 
Britain  in  1858,  11 ;  Rich- 
est prize  in  the  South  Seas 
goes  a-begging,  1 1 ;  Aus- 
tralian emigrants,  12; 
Tonga  tribes  give  serious 
trouble,  12-13;  Fiji  a 
Crown  Colony  in  1874, 
13;  British  form  of  gov- 
ernment, 13-14 

Honey-birds,  116,  117 

Horse  of  the  author,  Tan^wa, 
54-55,  60,  63,  65,  68,  77, 
84,  108-110 

Horses,  57 

House,  a  mountain,  41-44.  45 
of  a  mission-teacher,  49-50 
of  the  Buli  of  Mavua,  one 

of  the  finest  in  Fiji,  77 
of  the  good  Buli  of  Lemba- 

Lemba,  70-73 
of  the  Turanga  Lildwa,  64- 
65 


302 


INDEX 


Humour,  17-25,  89-90 
Hurricanes,  7,  131 
Hymns,  53 

Idols,  see  Religion 
Illustrations,  list  of,  xi 
Imports,  17,  57 
Improvements 

British,  13-14,  18 

ea,rly   missionaries,    10,    11, 

13.18 

planters  and  traders,   18 

Sunday  church,  121 

under   the   present    Gover- 
nor, 15 
Indians,  8,  15,  16,  17,  31,  86,  130, 
Industries  (see  also   Agriculture 

and  Products) 

building,  21 

cattle-ranching,    132-137 

cocoa-planting,  119 

Colonial      Sugar      Refining 
Company,  17,  31,  86 

exports,  17 

Fiji,  16,  17 

imports,  17,  57 

roadmaking,  21 

timber,  17,  19,  57,101,112- 
119,  127 

vanilla  plantation,  129,  130- 
132 

Vitu  Levu,  7 
Insects,  see  Animal  life 
Ironwood,  89 
Islands,  see  Geography 

Jails,  17,  18-25 

Kaisi,  or  commonalty,  relation 

to  chiefs,  95-96 
Kandavu,  a  province,  14 
King's  service,   Fijian  term  for 

being  in  jail,  22 
Koronisingana,    73,    74 

Lali,    a    canoe-shaped    wooden 
drum,  53 


Lambasa,     principal      port     of 

Vanua    Levu,  83,  86,    113, 

117,  129 
Land-tenure,  15 
La  Perouse,  98 
Latitude,  6 

Laws,  see  Government 
Leaf-insects,   117 
Legislative  council  of  twelve  for 

British  Governor  in  Fiji,  14 
Lemba-Lemba,     an     important 

town,   70 
Lemons,  36,  59,  60,  63,  114 
Leprosy,  102-103 
Levuka,  former  capital  of  Fiji, 

7.  13.  Ill 
Lianas,  36,  39,  83,  107,  115,  118 
Limes,  28 

List  of  illustrations,  xi 
Livingstone,    explorer,  92,  116 
Longitude,  6 
Lotus,   9 
Luggage,  34-35 

"Luveni  wai"  worship,  a  mix- 
ture    of     "miracle     play," 
devil-worship,  and  mur- 
der, 1 21-12 2 
Maafu,     a     powerful     chief     of 

Tonga,  13 
Macuata,   Roko  Tui,  or   Prince 

of,  103 
Mails,  carried  by    convicts,    25, 

129 
Maize,  19 
Makarita,  wife  of  the    Roko  Tui 

Macuata,  104-105 
Malaria,  68 

Mammals,  see  Animal  life 
Mandarin  orange,  63 
Mangaia,  Island  of,  16 
Mangoes,  75 

Manufactures,  see  Industries 
Massacres,  see  Murders 
Mavua,  the  biggest  town  on  the 

Singatoka  River,  76,  78,  81 
Mavuan  sunset  dance,  76 
Mbili-mbih,     a     small     bamboo 

raft,  69,  73,  74 


FIJI  AND   ITS  POSSIBILITIES 


303 


Mbuli,  term  for  a  chief,  14,  47,  49 
Meke-meke,  a  sing-song  dance, 

77-79,  105,  106-107 
Missionaries,  10,  11,  13,  18 
Moala,  Island  of,  10 
Mosquitoes,   7 
Mountain  house,  41-44,  45 
Mountains,  see  Geography 
Mulberry-tree,  10 
Murders,  massacres,  tortures  and 

cannibalism 

cannibal  days  of  Fiji  a  thing 
of  the  past,  lo-ii,  29,  37 

chief  diversions  of  a  Fijian's 
life,  18 

during  Thakombau's  reign, 
II 

"luveni  wai,"  121-122 

Tha  Levu,  122-123 
Music,  the  soul  of  Fijians,  9 

Nambukuya,  the  city  of  a  dream, 

40,  47-54,  55.  58 
Nandrunga,   a  small  village  in 

Fiji,  40,  58 
Nanduri,  a  handsome  town,  103- 

107,  128,  129 
Native 

banks,  9 

census,  15 

verses,  impromptu,  45 
Natives,  chiefs,  95-96 

civilised  become  excellent 
soldiers,  9 

decline  of  population,  15, 16 

dress,  34,  35,  45,  53 

eating  and  talking,  two 
great  ends  of  a  Fijian's 
existence,    50-51,    56-57, 

65.  71.  75,  76,  79.  80 
gratitude,  71-72 
grief,  125-126 
humour,  17-25,  89-90 
kaisi,  or  commonalty,  95-96 
Mavua,  78 

mixture  of  population,  8 
New  Hebrides,  9 
regard  for  whites,  86-87 


Natives 

of  the  Solomons,  9 
of  Suva,  6-10 
women,  43-44 

Natuatuathoko,  a  mountain  for- 
tress town,  57-58,60,  61,62 

Natural  resources,  see  Products, 
Plant  life.  Agriculture,  and 
Industries 

Ndalo,  one  of  Fiji's  most  impor- 
tant roots,   49,   51,   71,   95, 
no,  114 

Ndreketi   River,    101-119,    121, 
122,  128 

New  Caledonia,  38 

New  Hebrides,  9 

Ngeo,  Island  of,  113 

Niue,  Island  of,  16 

Number  of  islands  in  Fiji,  6 

Oranges,  28,  47,  54,  60,  62,  63, 

64,  75,  80,  92,  114 
Orchid,  38,  115 
Outfit,  30,  32,  S3 
Ovalau,  Island  of,  7 

Palms,  8,  45,  92,  133 

areca-nut,  28 
Pandanus ,  or  screw  pine  ,33,42,97 

prairies,  S3,  37 
Papya,  28 
Parrots,  116 
Paw-paws,  75 
Peanuts,  17 
Penal  system,   humours  of  the, 

17-25 
Pepper,  79 

Pigs,  53,  57,  65,  71.  74,  79,  95, 

104,  114,  117 
Pine-apples,  28,  98 
Pini,  or  tunic,  49,  104,  105 
Plant  life   (see  also  Products) 

allamanda,  123 

azalea,  39 

bamboo,  36,  41,  42,  44,  45, 
48,60,61,63,74,76,97,124 

bread-fruit  tree,  42 

cocoa-palm,  79,  118 


304 


INDEX 


Plant  life 

guinea-grass,  54 

ironwood,  89 

lianas,  36,  39,  83,  107,  115, 
118 

lotus,  9 

mangoes,  75 

mulberry-tree,  10 

orchid,  38,  115 

palms,  8,  45.  92,  i33 

pandanus,  or  screw  pine,  33, 
42,  97 

potatoes,  wild,  118 

rain-palms,  8 

salvia,  scarlet,  39 

shaddocks,  38 

sinnet,  or  cocoanut  fibre,  42 

tree-ferns,  38 

tuberoses,  39 
Pleasure  parties,  9 
Police-stations,  18 
Politics,  see  Government 
Polynesian  labourers,  31 
Population,  15,  16 
Possibilities,  57,  59 
Post,  25,  129 
Prawn,  river-,  55 
Prayers,  53 
Prince  of  Macuata,  or  Roko  Tui 

Macuata,  103 
Prince  WiUiam  Islands,  10 
Products,  see  also  Agriculture, 

Industries,  and  Plant  life 

allspice,  28 

annatto,  28 

areca-nut  palms,  28 

arrowroot,  28,  105 

bamboo,  36,  41,  42,  44,  45, 
48,60,61,63,74,76,97,124 

bananas,  17,  28,  35,  42,  47, 
48,53,54,  67,  80,105,  no 

bau  ndina,  a  rose-red  wood, 

113 
bau  vundi,  a  kind  of  cedar, 

113 
bread-fruit  tree,  42 
bua-bua,    the   boxwood   of 

the  Pacific,  112 


Products 

cassia,  28 
castor  oil,  28,  131 
cevua,    or   bastard   sandal- 
wood, 112 
chestnuts,  114,  118 
chillies,  28 
citrons,  36,  38,  59 
cloves,  28 

coca,     erythroxylon,     from 
which  cocaine  is  extracted, 
28 
cocoa,  28,  79,  118,  119 
cocoanut,  42,  55,  67,  71,  73, 

75,  78,  87,  93,  105,  108, 

no,  117,  126 
coffee,  17,  58,  80 
copra,  the  dried  meat  of  the 

cocoanut,  12,  17,  133,  134 
cotton,  12,  31 
croton  oil,  28 
crotons,  47,  60 
curry,  28,  126 
dakua,  wood  resembling  the 

New  Zealand  kauri  pine, 

112,  119 
dracaenas,  47,  60 
drugs,  17 
ginger,  28 

guavas,  60,  63,  80,  117 
guinea-grass,  54 
gum,  112 

Arabic,  28 
hibiscus,    63,    117, 
lemons,  36,  59,  60,  63,  114 
lianas,  36,  39,  85,  107,  115, 

118 
limes,  28 
maize,  19 

mandarin    orange,    63 
mangoes,  75 
ndalo,   one    of  Fiji's  most 

important  roots,  49,  51, 

71,  95,  no,  114 
oranges,  28,  47,  54,  60,  62, 

63,  64,  75,  80,  92,  114 
pandanus,    or    screw   pine, 

33>  42 


FIJI  AND   ITS   POSSIBILITIES         305 


Products 

papya,  28 

paw-paws,  75 

peanuts,  17 

pepper,  79 

pine-apples,  28,  98 

potatoes,  wild,  118 

ramie  fibre,  28 

rice,  24,  113 

sandalwood,  112 

savairabunidamu,  a  dark- 
red  wood,  112 

shallots,  79 

sinnet,  or  cocoanut  fibre, 
42,  50 

sisal  hemp,  28 

sugar,  12,  17,  31,  67,  86,  88, 
89,  97,  no,  113,  114,  128 

taro,  37,  47 

tea,  17,  71,  72,  80,  84,  88, 
113,  114,  127 

teak,  28 

timber,  17,  19,  57,  in,  119, 

tobacco,  16,  19,  53,  71,  72, 
89,  125,  128 

turmeric,  excellent  for  cur- 
ries, 28 

vanilla,  17,  28,  67,  74,  80, 
129,  130-132 

vesi,  teak-like  wood,  112 

West  India  arrowroot,  28 

yaka,  the  rosewood  of  the 
Pacific,  112 

yam,  22,  37,  42,  47,  48,  50, 

51.  53.  55.  59.  65,  71,  75, 
76,  79,  94,  95,  114,  118 

yanggona,  the  "kava"  of 
the  Eastern  Pacific,   51- 

52,  59,  77,  96,  105 
Providence,  Bligh's  ship,  10 

127 

Rain-trees,  8 

Ramie  fibre,  28 

Regard  for  whites,  86-87 

Religion 

church,  53 

hymns,  53 


Religion 

"luveni    wai"    worship,    a 
mixture       of       ' '  miracle 
play,"  devil-worship,  and 
murder,  1 21-122 
prayers,  53 

' '  tembe-tembe, ' '  devil-wor- 
ship, 122-125 
Reptiles,  see  Animal  life 
Resources,  see  Products,    Agri- 
culture, and  Industries 
R^wa  River,  69 
R^wa  Road,  31 
Rice,  24,  113 

River-crayfish,  65,  71,  79,  104, 
114 

prawns,  55 
Rivers,  see  Geography 
Roadmaking,  21 
Roko  Tui,  degree  for  the  pro- 
vince princes,  14 
Macuata,  or  Prince  of  Macu- 
ata,  103,  104 
Rotumah,  Island  of,  15 
Rulers 

Bull,  term  for  a  high  chief, 

70 
Maafu,  a  powerful  chief  of 

Tonga,  13 
Mbuli,  term  for  a  chief,  14, 

47.  49 
Robinson,      Sir      Hercules, 
British  Governor  of  Fiji, 

13.  14 

Roko  Tui,  degree  for  the 
province  princes,   14 

Macuata,  or  Prince  of  Ma- 
cuata, 103, 104 

Thakombau,  King  of  Fiji, 
one  of  the  worst  monsters 
of  cruelty  since  Nero,  11, 
13,  18,  62,  104 

Thurn,  Sir  Everard  im, 
present  Governor  of  Fiji, 

14-15.  39 
Turanga  ni  Koro,  degree  for 
the  chief  of  a  town,  14,  51, 
52,  55,  102,  114 


3o6 


INDEX 


Salvia,  scarlet,  39 
Samoans,  8 
Sandalwood,  112 
Savairabunidamu,     a    dark-red 

wood,  112 
Sawmill,  iii,  113 
Scorpions,   117 
Senganga,  the  "  back  of  beyond," 

121-138 
Serpents,  116 
Shaddocks,  38 
Shallots,  79 
Sharks,  69,  98-99 
Sheep,  57 

Shipping,  see    Industries 
Shower-bath  in  Nanduri,  104 
Sickness 

chest  troubles,  16 

dysentery,  7 

European  diseases,  16 

fever,  7,  68,  84 

leprosy,  102-103 

malaria,  68 

skin  diseases,  10 1 

"thoko,"    a    skin    disease, 

lOI 

Singatoka  and  highlands  (Tholo 
West  Country),  132 
River,   60,   63,   67,   68,   80, 

81,  88 
Valley,  56,  75 

Sinnet,  or  cocoanut  fibre,  42,  50 

Sisal  hemp,  28 

Skin  diseases,  loi 

Snakes,  116 

Social  conditions,  1 7 

Society,  104 

Solo  dancing,  9 

Solomons,  cannibal  group,  9 

Somo-somo,  a  horse  from  Vuo, 
87,  90,  108-110,  129 

South  Seas,  11,  15,  27 

Speke,    explorer,  30,  56,  92 

Stanley,  30,  36,  56,  83,  116,  128 

Stick-insects,  117 

Stock,  17 

Sugar,  12,  17,  31,  67,  86,  88,  89, 
97,  no,  113,  114,  128 


Sugar-cane  mek^-mek^,  106-107 

Sulu,  the    national    kilt  of    the 

Fijians,  14,  23,  34,  45,  49, 

53.  55.  62,  70,  76,  78,  79, 

84,  105,  106,   123,  128 

Sunset  dance,  Mavuan,  76 

Suva,  present  capital  of  Fiji,  5, 

6,  7,    13,  17,  25,  27,  28,  29, 

31,  67,  80,  81,  85,88,  103, 

III,    117,    119,  122,  128, 

130,  133.  134 
Government  House,  6,  22 
Harbour,  27 
Society,  27 
Systems,  see  Government 

"Tabu  kaisi,"  mat  forbidden  to 

commoners,  102 
Tamavua  River,  27 
Tambale,  a  tiny  village,  47 
Tambia,   a  place  to  let  alone, 

101-103,  104,  114 
Tan6wa,  the  author's  horse  54- 

55,  60,   63,  65,  68,   77,  84, 
io8-iio 

Taro,  37,47 

Tasman,    discoverer  of  Fiji,   10 

Taviuni,    a    great    island    near 

Vanua  Levu,  17,  115,  132- 

137 

Tavu  River,  58 

Taxes,  9,  19,  22 

Tea,  17,  71,  72,  80,  84,  88,  113, 
114,  127 

Teak,  28 

"Tembe-tembe,"   devil-worship, 
122-125 

Temperature,  7,  50 

Tevoro,  or  devil,   123-125 

Thakombau,   King,   one  of  the 
worst  monsters   of  cruelty 
since  Nero,  11,  13,  18,  62 
104 
birthplace,  Bau,  62 
monument  at  Suva,  27 

Tha  Levu  (Bad  Lot),  a  heredi- 
tary   devil-priest,     122-123 

"Thoko,"  a  skin  disease,  loi 


FIJI   AND    ITS   POSSIBILITIES 


307 


Tholo  West  Country  (Singa- 
toka  and  highlands),  132 

Thurn   Lady  im,  wife  of  present 
Governor  of  Fiji,  15 
Sir     Everard    im,     present 
Governor  of  Fiji,   14-15. 

39 

Ticks,  116,  117 

Timber,  17,  19,  57,  loi,  111-119, 
127 

Timor,  10 

Tobacco,  16,  19,  53,  71,  72,  89, 
125,  128 

Tonga,  a  group  of  islands,  rival 
of  Fiji,  12-13,  16 

Tortures,  see  Murders 

Towns,  see  Geography 

Trades,  see  Industries 

Tram-line,  24 

Transportation,    see    Industries 

Tree-ferns,  38 

Tribe  dancing,  9 

Tropical  forest,  37-39 

Trunk,  Fijian,  34 

Tuberoses,  39 

Tumba,  a  town  on  the  Ndreketi 
River,  107,  111-119,  122, 
128 

Tunic,  see  Pini 

Turanga  Lil6wa,  a  chief  of  im- 
portance, 64-65 

Turanga  ni  Koro,  term  for  the 
head  man  of  a  town,  14,  51, 
52,  55,  102,  114 

Turmeric,  excellent  for  curries,  28 

United  States  Exploring  Expe- 
dition, 10 
United  States  Government,  1 1  ,"3 1 

Vanilla,  17,  28,  67,  74,  80,  129, 
130-132 
plantation,   23-25,   130-132 


Vanua  Levu    (Great   Land),    6. 

23>    83-99,    113.    114.    127, 
129,  130 
Vatua,  Island  of,  10 
Vegetables,    see  Plant  life,  and 

Products 
Verses,  impromptu,  45 
Vesi,  teak-like  wood,  112 
Village,  a  mountain,  45 
Villages,    see   Geography 
Viti    Levu    (Great    Fiji),    most 

important     island     in     the 
archipelago,   6,   7,  39,  83, 
86,  87,  88,  113,  114 
Vuo,  87,  98 

Wainikoro,  87,  88,  91,  96 
Wainikoro  River,  91 
Wall  of  Suva  jail,  a  joke,  19-20 
Water-pipes  in  Nanduri,   104 
Waterways,  see  Geography 
Waves  of  the   Sea,   one  of  the 

most  celebrated  dances,  9- 
10 
Wedding  dance,  9 
West    India  arrowroot,   28,   105 
Whist  in  Nanduri,  105 
Wild  boars,  116,  117 

cats,  116,  117 

potatoes,  118 
Women,  43-44 

Yaka,     the    rosewood     of    the 

Pacific,  112 
Yam,  22,  37,  42,  47,  48,  50,  51, 
53.  55.  59.65,  71,  75.  76,  79. 
94,  95,  114,  118 
Yanggona,   the   "kava"  of  the 
Eastern  Pacific,  51-52,  59, 
77,  96,  105 

Zoology,  see  Animal  life 


3o8 


INDEX 


Route:  Sydney,  139,  140.  Port  Vila,  143-144.  Vila,  144. 
M^le  road,  160.  Undine  Bay,  161.  Efat6,  162-176.  M^le  beach, 
162.  Mel^  Island,  162.  Through  the  "bush,"  162-163.  Sou'- 
West  Bay,  185-187.  Malekula,  187-235.  Ten  Stick  Island,  190- 
191.  Bilyas,  193-195.  Tanna,  the  southernmost  of  the  New- 
Hebrides,  237-277.  Lamanian,  a  village  on  Tanna  Island,  241, 
242.     Imale,  243-253.     Lenakil,  253-255.     Whitesands,  257. 


Advertisement  for  New  Hebrides 

145 
Adzes,  220 
Agriculture  (see  also   Products) 

plantation    life,    163-173 

sheep  -  farming     at      Erro- 
manga,  275 
Almonds,  163 

Alunk,  a  kind  of  image,  228 
Amat    (high    chief),    a    kind    of 

image,  228 
Ambang,  name  for  the  Bwiliau 

image,  228 
Ambrym,  178,  275,  276 
Amils,  village  squares,  226,  229 
Aneityum,  238,  275 
Anglo-French   Convention,    139, 

150. 174 
Anglo-French  dilemma,  147-154 
Animal  life 

fruit  bat,  202 

goat,  165 

locust,  248 

mosquito,  173 

parrot,  163,  202 

pig,  163,  181,  164-185,  203, 
213, 215, 227, 228, 247, 268 

pigeon,  163,  179 

spider,  243 

wild  boar,  163,  202 
Aniwa,  259 
Aoba,  276 
Arch-idol,  229-230 
Arrowroot,  165 
Atamat  and  Fintimbus,  dancing, 

211-217 


Aurora,  276 
Australia,  140,  255 

Balanrum,  a  kind  of  image,  228 

Balias,  a  kind  of  image,  228 

Bamboo,  209,  220 

Bananas,  165 

Banyans,    163,    201,    243,    244, 

245,  248,  257 
Bat,  fruit,  202 
Bataru,    name    for    the    Alunk 

image,  228 
Bilyas,  193-195 
Biology,  see  Animal  life 
Bird's-nest  ferns,  201 
Boars,  wild,  163,  202 

tusks,  184-185,  202,  212 
Borde,  Monsieur,  French  Com- 
missioner,    149,    158,    169, 
174 
Botany,  see  Plant  life 
Bracelets,  210 
Bread-fruit,  219 
British  Solomons,  146,  255 
Buildings 

bungalow  of  Capt.  Ernest 
Rason,  British  Commis- 
sioner,  144 

"hamal,"  182-183,  205,  209, 
218-220 

mission     house,     Malekula, 

193 
planter's  home,    163-164 
Bungalow      of      Capt.      Ernest 
Rason,     British      Commis- 
sioner, 144 


FIJI   AND   ITS  POSSIBILITIES 


309 


"Bush"  country,  162-163 
"Bush-lawyer"  vine,  161 
Bushman's  Bay,  233 
Bwila,    name   jfor    the    Bwilbon 

image,  228 
Bwilbon,  a  kind  of  image,  228 
Bwilian,  a  kind  of  image, 2 28 

Cannibalism,  see  Murders 

Canoes,  185 

Carteret,  Captain,  147 

Caste-superstitions,  204 

Cities,  see  Geography 

Clothes,  155,  158,  180-181,  202 

Cocoanuts,  163,  219,  228 

Cocoa-palm,  179 

Coffee,  146,  160,  165,  168,  172, 

179 
Cook,    Captain,    explorer,    147, 

189,  274 
Copra,  146,  151,  179,  185,  253, 

261, 263 
Coral,  162 

Cottonwood,  144,  187 
Council  of  war,  251-252 

Dancing 

Atamat     and      Fintimbus, 
211-217 

idol,  199,  209-217 

Sing-Sing  ground,  184 

solo,  211 
De  Bougainville,  147,  189 
De  Quiros,  Portuguese  explorer, 

147 
Discovery  of  New  Hebrides  by 
the  Portuguese,  De  Quiros 

147 
Diseases,  see  Sickness 
D'Oyly,  Commander  H.,  of  the 

Pegasus,  196,  234 
Drum-sticks,  220 
Dynamite,  158-159 

Earrings,  210 

Education  of  the  natives,  156 
Efate,  157,  162-176,  201 
Epi,  178 


Erromanga,  the  "Martyr  Isle," 
259,  276 

Events  on  a  plantation,  165-167 

Explorers 

Carteret,  Captain,  147 
Cook,  Captain,  147,  189,  274 
De   Bougainville,    147,    189 
De  Quiros,  Portuguese,  147 
Stanley,  261 

Fear  author  at  Whitesands,  260 
Ferns,    bird's-nests,    201 
Fern-tree,  227,  228 
Fever,  165,  173,  188,  198,  201, 

210,  248,  267,  277 
Figs,  163,  261 
Fintimbus,  and  Atamat,  dancing 

211-217 
Fire-arms,   157-158,   174,  265 
Fishing  with  dynamite,  158-160 
Flowers,  see  Plant  life 
Food  products,  see  Products 
France's  reasons   for   acquiring 

New  Hebrides,  148-149 
"Frigate"  bird,  205 
Fruit  bat,  202 

Geography 

Ambrym,  178,  275,  276 

Aneityum,  238,  275 

Aniwa,  259 

Aoba,  276 

Aurora,  276 

Australia,  140,  255 

Bilyas,  193-195 

British  Solomons,  146,  255 

Bushman's  Bay,  233 

Efate,  157,  162-176,  201 

Erromanga,     the    "Martyr 

Isle,"  259,  276 
Imale,  243-253 
Lamanian,  241,  242 
Lenakil,  238,  253-255 
Lowinnie,  244 
Lumbumbu,  196 
Maewo,  Island  of,  227,  276 
Malekula,      or      Mallicollo, 
176-235,  237,  276 


3IO 


INDEX 


Geography 

Maskelyne  Islands,  227 

Mele  Beach,  162 

Mel^  Island,  162 

New    Caledonia,    140,    147 

149,  150,  153 
New  Guinea,  1 49 
Paama,  178 
Pentecost,  276 
Port  Vila,  143-144 
Queensland,    265,    266 
Rano,  Island  of,  180,  234 
Santo,  237,  276 
Solomons,  146,  255 
South  Seas,   162 
Sou'-West   Bay,    177,    185- 

187,  190,  217,  220 
Sulphur  Bay,  264,  267 
Sydney,  139,  140,  164 
Tanna,    the    southernmost 
of    the    New    Hebrides, 
175-176,  201,  237-277 
Ten  Stick  Island,  1 90-1 91 
Undine  Bay,  161 
Uripiv,  220 

Vila,  "capital"  of  New  Heb- 
rides, 143-145,  157,  238 
Wala,  a  strange  little  island 
off  the  coast  of  Malekula, 
179-180,  184-234 
Whitesands,  257 
Ginger,  213 
Goat,  165 
Government 

Australian  view  if  the  New 

Hebrides,  140 
men-of-war,   169,   174,  187, 

189,  190,  199,  233 
Tariff    laws,  "White    Aus- 
tralia," 139,  173 
Grain,  149 

Graveyards,  158,  183 
Guava,  144,  167 

"Hamal,"    182-183,    205,    209, 

218-220 
Heads,  conical,  221-223 
Hibiscu'^,,  '^  tg 


History 

Anglo-French  Convention, 
139,  150,  174,  176.  Anglo- 
French  dilemma,  1 47-154. 
Discovered  by  the  Portu- 
guese De  Quiros,  in  1605, 
147.  Offers  of  exchange 
for  New  Hebrides,  148, 
153.  France 's  reasons  for 
acquiring  New  Hebrides, 
148-149 

Hurricane,  203 

Idols 

in  dancing,  199,  209-217 

in  Malekula,  225 

in  the  Sing-Sing  ground,  183 
Imale,  243-253 
Insects,  see  Animal  life 
Islands,  see  Geography 

Journal   of  the   Royal  Anthro- 
pological Soc'y  of  Australia, 
226-229 

Kava,  247 
Killing-mallets,  220 

Lamanian,  241,  242 
Land  tenure,  173 
Laws,  see  Government 
Leggatt,  Mr.  Watt,  missionary, 

226-230 
Lemon-trees,  161 
Lenakil,  238,  253-255 
Lever  Brothers,  manufacturers, 

146 
Liana,  163,  200,  201 
Liquor,  174 
Locusts,  248 
Lovwis,  name  for  the  Matalau 

image,  228 
Lowinnie,  244 
Lumbumbu,  196 

Maewo,  Island  of,  227,  276 
Maize,  146,  160 
Malaita,  S.S.,  274 


FIJI  AND   ITS   POSSIBILITIES 


311 


Malaria,  173,  277 
Malekula,  176-235,  237,  276 

idols,  225 
Mallicollo,  see  Malekula 
Mammals,  see  Animal  life 
Mangrove,  200 
Maskelyne  Islands,  227 
Maskelynes,  kind  of  image,  227 
Matalau,  a  kind  of  image,  228 
Mele  beach,  162 

Island,  162 

road,  160 
Meleun,  a  kind  of  image,  228 
Men-of-war,  169,  174,  187,  189, 

190,  199,  22>2, 
Meurthe,  French  man  of -war  189, 

193,  195,  196 
Millet,  146,  168 
Missionaries,  146,  152,  156,  178- 

179,  190,  225-229,  238 
Mission  house,  Malekula,  193 
Mosquitoes,  173 
Mountains,  see  Geography 
Mummies,  218-220 
Murders,     massacres,     tortures, 

and  cannibalism 
>' Australian    view*  of     New 
^■■^       Hebrides,  140    " 
'*'       Malekula,  190,  203,  212 

no  redress  for,  150 

Sing-Sing  ground,  183 

Tanna,  239 
Mythology,  Malekula,  229 

..Nahau,  name  for  the  Taresing 

image,  228 
Natemate,  227-229 
National  dress  of  Malekula,  180- 

181 
Natives 

clothes,  155,  158 
education,  156 
fear    of   author    at    White- 
sands,  260 
free  with  fire-arms,  157-158, 

174,  265 
gorilla-like,  156 
honesty,  156 


Natives 

murderous,   filthy   and  un- 
happy brutes,  151 
national  dress  of  Malekula, 

180-181 
nobihty  in  Malekula,  181 
population,  145-146 
sullen  and  ugly,  155 
Wala,  180 
wives    in     New    Hebrides, 

181-182 
women   in    Malekula,    205- 

207,  210 
women  in  Tanna,  249 
Natural  resources,  see  Products, 
Plant  Life,  and  Agriculture 
"Netik,"    a    witchcraft    belief, 

250-251 
New  Caledonia,  140,    147,    149, 

New  Guinea,  149 
Nobihty  in  Malekula,  181 
Number  of  islands  in  the  New 
Hebrides,  145 

Offers  to  exchange  for  New  Heb- 
rides 

Manihiki  Islands,  153 
Mauritius,  153 
Rapa,  Island  of,  148 

Oranges,  165 

Orchids,  201 

Paama,  178 

Palms,  144,  158,  179,  201,  213, 

249,  260,  269 
Pandanus,  180,  210,  249,  269 
Parrots,  163,  202 
Pegasus,   H.M.S.,   175,  189,  193, 

235 
Pentecost,  276 
Peppers,  165 
Pigeons,  163,  179 
Pigmies,  187,  205 
Pigs,  163,  181,  184-185,  203,  213, 

215,  227,  228,  247,  268 
Pig's  tail,  202,  212 
Plantation  life,  163-173 


312 


INDEX 


Planter's  home,  163-164 
Plant  life  (see  also  Products) 

banyans,  163,  201,  243,  244, 
^  245,  248,  257 

' '  bush-lawyer ' '  vine,  161 

Cottonwood,  144,  187 

ferns,  bird's-nests,  201 

fern-tree,  227,  228 

guava,  144 

mangrove,  200 

orchids,  201 

palms,   144,   158,   179,   201, 
213,  249,  260,  269 
Poisoned  arrows,  187,  188,  230- 

232 
Population,  145-146 
Port  Vila,  143-144 
Potato,  163 

Presbyterian  babies,  178-179 
Products,  see  also  Plant  life,  and 

Agriculture 

almonds,  163 

arrowroot,  167 

bamboo,  209,  220 

bananas,  165, 

bread-fruit,  219 

cocoanuts,  163,  219,  228 

cocoa-palm,  179 

coffee,   146,   160,   165,   168, 
172,  179 

copra,   146,    151,   179,   185, 
253,  261,  263 

coral,  162 

Cottonwood,  144  187 

figs,  163,  261 

ginger,  213 

grain,  149 

guava,  144,  167 

hibiscus,  249 

kava,  247 

lemons,  161, 

lianas,  163,  200,  201 

liquor,  174 

maize,  146,  160 

millet,  146,  168 

oranges,  165 

pandanus,  180,  210,  249,  269 

peppers,  165 


Products 

potatoes,  163 

rose-apples,  261 

sinnet,  202,  222 

sugar,  166 

tariff  laws,  White  Australia, 

139.  153 
taro,  163,  201,  214 
tea,  165,  166, 
tobacco,  151,  158,  214,  219, 

231,  250,  262 
tomatoes,  165 
tree-melons,  261 
wood-ash,  201 
Protectorate,  174 

Queensland,  265,  266 
sugar  country,  240 

Rainfall,  200 

Rano,  Island  of,  180,  234 

Rason,    Capt.     Ernest,    British 

Commissioner,  144,  149,  158 

169,  174 
Religion 

"frigate"  bird,   205 

idols  in  Malekula,  225 

in  the  Sing-Sing  ground, 
183 
Rivers,  see  Geography 
Rose-apples,  261 

Santo,  237,  276 

Sarguey,  murdered  white  trader, 

195, 196-198 
Savanral,  name  for  the  Balan- 

rum  image,  228 
Schooner  threatened,  232-233 
Sea-chief,  an  ill-natured,  233-235 
Sheep-f  arming.at  Erromanga,  2  7  5 
Sickness 

fever,    165,    173,    188,    198, 
201,  210,  248,  267,  277 

malaria,  173,  277 
Sing-Sing  ground,  179,  183-184 

cannibalism  on,  183 

dancing  on,  184 

idols  on,  183 


FIJI   AND   ITS    POSSIBILITIES 


3^3 


Sinnet,  202,  222 

Size  of  New  Hebrides, 


139-140, 


145 
Skulls,  222-223 
Soap-making,  146,  261 
Solo  dancing,  211 
Solomons,  146,  255 
South  Seas,  162 
Sou'-West    Bay,    177,    185-187, 

190,  217,  220 
Spiders,  243 
Stanley,  261 
Sugar,  166 

Sulphur  Bay,  264,  267 
Sydney,  139,  140,  164 

Tan  melev,  a  kind  of  image,  228 
Tanna,  southernmost  of  the  New 
Hebrides,     175  -  176,   201, 
237-277 
Taresing,  a  kind  of  image,  227 
Tariff  laws,  White  Australia,  139, 

173 
Taro,  163,  201,  214 
Tea,  165,  166,  259 
"Temes,"  images  of  the  dead, 

226 
Temperature,  179 
Ten  Stick  Island,  1 90-1 91 
Tobacco,  151,  158,  214,  219,  231, 

250,  262 
Tomatoes,  165 
Tortoise-shell,  210 
Tortures,  see  Murders 


Tree-melons,  261 
Tribal-fighting,  175-176 

Undine  Bay,  i6i 
Uripiv,  220 

Vauduse,  French  warship,  175 
Vila,  "capital "  of  New  Hebrides, 

143-145,  157,  238 
Villages,  see  Geography 
Vilvil,   name  for  the  Vilvilbon 

image,  228 
Vilvilbon,  a  kind  of  image,  228 
Volcano,  257,  267-275 

Wala,  a  strange  little  island  off 
the  coast  of  Malekula,  179- 

180,  184-234 
natives  of,  180 
Waterways,  see  Geography 
White  AustraHa  tariff  laws,  139, 

.153 
Whitesands,  257 
Wives  in  New  Hebrides,  1 81-182 
Women  in   Malekula,    205-207, 
210 

in  Tanna,  249 
Wood-ash,  201 

Yam,   163,   179,   180,   181,   182, 
203,  205,  206,  214,  217,  242, 
245 

Zoology,  see  Animal  life. 


iRottolb  30lanti 


Adams,  sailor,  last  survivor  of 
mutineer  crew,  282 

Bananas,  292 

Barracks,  284 

Bishop,  289 

Bligh,  Commander,  280 

Bloody  Bridge,  291 

Bounty,  British  man-of-war,  280, 

285,  286,  287,  292 
Bread-fruit  trees,  280 


Bridges,  285 

British  West  Indies,  280 

Cancer,  293 

Carteret,  discoverer,  281 

Cattle,  290 

Celebrations,  292-293 

Christian,  Lieutenant  of  H.  M.  S. 

Bounty,  281,  287 
Church  of  England  Melanesian 

Mission,  290 


314 


INDEX 


Churches,  284 

Clarke,  Marcus,  author  of  "For 
the  Term   of   His   Natural 
Life,"  283 
Clergy,  289 
Coffee,  292 
Consumption,  293 
Convict  station,  283-284 
Cook,  explorer,  283 
Coral,  280 
Corn,  289 
Courthouse,  284 

Dancing,  292 

Discovery  by  Carteret,  281 

by  Cook,  283 
Drake,  Captain  and  Mrs,,  286 
Dutch  East  Indies,  280 

Emigration,  283 

Geography 

British  West  Indies,  280 

Dutch  East  Indies,  280 

Mount  Pitt,  289 

Nepean  Island,  291 

New  Hebrides,  291 

Nev^  South  Wales,  286 

Philip  Island,  291 

Pitcairn,  named  after  mid- 
shipman who  first  sighted 
it,  281,  282,  287,  293 

Solomons,  291 

Sydney,  279,  288 

Tahiti',  280,  281 

Tasmania,  283 

Timor,  Dutch  East  Indies, 
280 
Government  Commission,  285 
Government  House,  286,  289 
Grapes,  291 
Graveyard,  284 
Guavas,  291 

History 

Discovered  by  Carteret  in 
1767,  281.  Pitcairn 
named  after  the  midship- 


History 

man  who  first  sighted  it, 
281.  Adams,  last  sur- 
vivor of  mutineer  crew, 
282. 

Nobbs.new  Governor,  282. 
Discovered  by  Cook  in 
1744,  283.  Emigrationof 
Pitcairn  people  to  Norfolk 
Island,  283 

Horses,  290 

Houses,  290 

Inlay  work,  291 

Kumara,  or  sweet  potato,  289 

Lemons,  292 

Manners,  288-289 
Melons,  292 
Mount  Pitt,  289 
Music,  287 

Natives 

descendants,  287-288 

manners,  288-289 

women,  Tahitians,  280,  286 
287 
Nepean  Island,  291 
New  Hebrides,  291 
New  South  Wales,  286 
Nobbs,  new  governor,  282 

Onions,  290 
Oranges,  292 

Passion-fruit,  291 
Peaches,  291 
Pheasants,  290 
Philip  Island,  291 
Pigs,  292 
Pines,  290 

Pitcairn,  named  after  midship- 
man  who   first   sighted   it, 
281,  282,  287,  293 
Plague,  279 
Population,  279,  286 


FIJI   AND   ITS   POSSIBILITIES 


315 


Potatoes,  289 
Prison,  283-284 
Products 

bananas,  292 

bread-fruit  trees,  280 

cattle,  290 

corn, 289 

grapes,  291 

guavas,  291 

horses,  290 

kumara,    or    sweet   potato, 
289 

melons,  292 

onions,  290 

oranges,  292 

passion-fruit,  291 

peaches,  291 

pheasants,  290 

pigs,  292 

potatoes,  289 

quail,  290 

strawberries,  292 

sugar,  288 

tea,  288,  289 

tobacco,  287 

Quails,  290 
Roads.  285 
Schools,  284 


Sickness 

cancer,  293 

consumption,  293 

plague,  279 
Size,  279 
Solomons,  291 
Stained-glass  windows  by 

Burne-Jones,  291 
Storehouses,  284 
Strawberries,  292 
Sugar,  288 

Suicide,  epidemic,  283 
Sydney,  279,  288 


Tahiti,  280,  281 

Tahitians,  280,  286,  287 

Tasmania,  283 

Tea,  288,  289 

Tennis,  289,  292 

Timor,  Dutch  East  Indies, 

Tobacco,  287 

Victoria,  Queen,  285 

Whale-oil,  288 
Whalers,  288,  290 
Whaling  industry,   289 
Widows,   290 
Women,  280,  28O,  387 


280 


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